Of Finding a Doctor
by InfinityLessThree
Summary: Hawkeye saves a doctor. Can the doctor save him? Can she save any of them?
1. Chapter 1

_Like the rest of you good people... I am Avengers obsessed. And this may be the longest story arc I've ever tackled, so enjoy._

_Also, copyright stuff, not mine, disclaimer, etc._

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Agent Clint Barton itched to be the one flying. But the pilot was competent, and Clint had a target to analyze, so he pushed the itch to the back of his mind, and pulled up the file on his handheld. He ignored the reports and analyses in favor of video footage. There was quite a bit of it, and Clint quickly began to pick out patterns. Her training screamed SHIELD agent- a traitor, then, or a mole. He memorized her tendency towards revealing dresses, flight above fight, and a wickedly fast combat style. Very little power, he noted, just speed. She had an uncanny survival instinct- she seemed to hear gunshots before they happened, become suspicious of enemies before they gave themselves away. He flicked through the footage, looking for any hint towards what would make a SHIELD agent into a mark. He paused for one brief moment on a clip of her fighting in a dark plaza, back-to-back with Agent Romanoff. There was nothing to be learned from it that he did not already know, though, so he flicked it off the screen with a little more force than strictly necessary.

Finally, he found a promising clip, gray and grainy. The target was on the phone, speaking quickly and glancing over her shoulders furtively. There was no sound, but he could tell that she was speaking an obscure dialect of Russian, associated with a region that housed an up-and-coming terrorist group that posed a real threat to SHIELD. She was a sell-out, then.

That was all Clint needed to know. She was a risk, to SHIELD and everyone they protected. She would be eliminated. He memorized her face quickly. Big dark eyes, light olive complexion, framed by dark hair just long enough to curl over her ears and fine cheekbones. He looked for other identifying marks, ones that would not be as easily changed: a scar over the knuckles of her left hand, the shape of the hollow of her neck, the exact length of her arms and legs. She was small and slight, but walked with the loose gait of a much taller woman, and she had no problem filling out the shapely dresses she favored. Finally, he reviewed the official SHIELD analyses. Agent Asalynn Liretto, began training at age 16, special ops gone rogue. Her field of focus was noncombat, deep infiltration. She could quite literally disappear, even from SHIELD, for months at a time, always returning with information on the enemy's technology. Her combat training was minimal, but her technological skills more than made up for it; nothing that ran on electricity was safe from her. They had noted many of the same traits he had: a fondness for attractive men, an almost cowardly tendency to flee, outstanding skills of misdirection. A slippery mark.

He would've preferred time to study her himself, pick his time and place. But SHIELD had just received intel that an exchange was taking place tonight, one that could destroy the entire agency. So the Hawk was going black tie.

"How long?" he asked the pilot.

The pilot shrugged. "Thirty minutes, tops."

Agent Barton nodded. It was plenty of time. Without another word, he picked up the bag next to him and threaded his way to the back of the quinjet. He fished a tux out of it and pulled the clothes on over his suit. He left the bowtie draped around his neck, but reluctantly changed out his combat boots for the specially engineered dress shoes. When he finished, he turned to the anonymous agent Fury had sent as backup.

"Put this on." He tossed the agent a vest. The agent obediently slid one arm through it.

"Under your shirt." The agent- still green enough to maybe pull this off, to not trigger the target's suspicions- flushed and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Your job is to flush out the target." Clint pulled up a blue print of the building, rotating the 3D image with his fingers. "She'll need to be out on this balcony, here." He pointed to a balcony that jutted out above a river that meandered through the city. "She likes pretty boys. Use it. Don't underestimate her or try to be clever. Just make yourself available; she'll come to you."

The agent, whom Clint had decided to think of simply as Agent, nodded. "Where will you be?"

Hawkeye debated briefly between a lesson on the meaning of "need-to-know" and a lesson on mission planning.

"I'll be here." He pointed to another wing of the mansion, officially closed off for tonight's gala, jutting out perpendicular to the balcony. "Four floors up. Make sure that you stay between the target and the door."

"Why?"

Clint kept his face carefully deadpan."So that when an arrows sprouts in your chest, she can't run back inside." Agent squeaked, and Clint had to frown to keep himself from grinning.

"You're going to shoot me?"

Not trusting himself to speak without laughing, Clint held out an arrow to Agent, who had just finished rebuttoning his shirt over the vest. He took it almost reverently, inspected it, then returned it with a shrug. Without a word, Clint flipped it in his hand and jammed it into his new partner's chest. He jumped backwards with a shout, then stilled as he realized he was neither dead nor dying. The arrow jutted out from his chest, quivering.

"The vest and the arrowhead are a set. It won't penetrate, but it'll hold onto it so that it looks like you've been shot. Questions?"

Agent shook his head.

"Got it."

"Good. Wait for my signal."

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_More to come. Especially if you leave me reviews! Then I am happy and write faster and have more inspirations._


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, guys, I never get reviews! I wasn't expecting to get this one up so fast, but the general positive response has forced my hand. Enjoy!_

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Breaking in to set his bow and quiver was ridiculously easily. He climbed back out the window, then went around front to meet Agent. They smiled and shook hands, using their cover as wealthy art collectors to survey the gala. Clint was the first to spot the target, on the ballroom floor below. A very sexy blue dress, the same dark hair & eyes, the correct portions- there was no doubt. Silently, they split up and did a quick reconnaissance for backup. Finding none, Clint clasped his hands behind his back as he walked away, and could practically feel Agent nod and set off to do his job.

Hawkeye was in place before the target was. He clicked the dial on his quiver that would click the trick arrowhead into place, then pulled the arrow out and set it on the string, waiting. His eyes never left the balcony. The hall was drafty and cold, but Hawkeye didn't shift. He kept his ears pricked, but his focus didn't waver.

It was taking too long. Hawkeye fought the urge to stand up, to go back and find out what was happening. Either Agent could do his job or he couldn't; to leave now would jeopardize the whole mission. He couldn't help thinking that if Natasha had been his partner, he wouldn't need to be nervous.

He smothered his relief when Agent opened the French doors and handed the target through. He took one breath, measuring the distance, wind, force, angle. Two shots, back-to-back. With her reflexes, there would be not time to calculate the second shot- after all, that was the plan. So he did it now, planning it so the arrow would hit her mid-dash and flip her over the railing into the water below. No body, no mess.

He exhaled and pulled back the first shot. The strength of his arms and back balanced perfectly against the tension of the bow, one perfect point of lethal potential. He didn't need to pause to the savor the moment- the speed of it only shot that much more crystal adrenaline through his system. He pulled his fingers back another millimeter, brushing along his cheekbone as the string rolled past his fingertips. He felt the snap it made, rather than heard it. The arrow was gone. It whistled as it flew, an intentional flaw, to alert the target a millisecond earlier. It was essential that she run, or the second shot would fly wide and she might be able to escape before he hit her again. He was taking no chances with this one. By the time the first arrow found its mark, he had loosed the second. It wasn't until it had split the distance between archer and target that Hawkeye realized something was wrong.

A rusty stain was spreading from the shaft in Agent's chest. The target hadn't moved, except to gasp in shock.

He had already missed before she ran forward and dropped to her knees before Agent, who had collapsed. With unexpected efficiency, she felt the fabric of his shirt, then grimace and gripped the arrow. He saw her say something, and his partner nodded. She took a deep breath, then twisted the shaft a full 180 degrees and yanked it out.

This wasn't the target. It couldn't be. People didn't just change their personalities, suddenly ignore years of habit and training. Agent Liretto would've run at the first sign of danger. Agent Liretto wouldn't have endangered her own life to save a dying man. No agent in their right mind would. So this woman, no matter how similar she looked, was a civilian.

But now she was a witness. Hawkeye could hear Fury's voice in his head: _Abort. Eliminate the witness and get out. Do not compromise yourself._

He turned the dial on his quiver again, pulled out another arrow and shot it. It thudded into the crown molding above the balcony at the same time he launched himself out the window. The cord that attached the new arrow to his bow pulled taut as he swung out over open space. He clicked the button on his bow to release the arrow as he hit the marble and rolled, popping right back up onto his feet.

"We have to go."

The target- the woman- turned from the jacket she was holding to Agent A.'s chest. Her eyes flicked from him to his bow to the bloody arrow next to her, and pulled back defensively, setting herself between him and her patient.

"No." He ignored her and picked up the bloody arrow. It was the wrong tip, a piercing barb he'd designed himself, meant to pierce through any body armor. It was poisonous. He swore and threw it into the river. He would worry about who had switched out his arrowheads, and how, later.

"We have to go. Now."

He picked up the grappling arrow and shot it again, this time into the ledge of a conveniently placed skyscraper, five stories up. He held onto the bow with one hand and held the other out to her. She shook her head. She was trembling, but she glared at him.

"I can't leave him."

"You're too late. It was poisonous." She cringed and swallowed. Hawkeye hesitated, then added, "He knew the risks." She turned back to Agent.

He was ready to knock her out and save her against her will, but Agent had other ideas.

"It's… alright. He's right. He's-" he coughed, and blood speckled his tux and the woman's hands, "he's the best."

Clint had to look away from the hero worship on his young partner's face.

"You should-" another cough, more blood, "trust him. He's one of the Avengers, you know."

She didn't seem to notice the blood on her hand, just continued pressing the makeshift bandage onto the wound.

"He shot you." Hawkeye could tell from the set of her shoulders, the tension in her hands, that she wanted to scream. But she kept her voice soft, matter-of-fact. Calming.

"Yeah. He did, didn't he? Never misses." She clutched his hand.

"Come on, hang on. You'll be alright…" she looked at Hawkeye, and he shook his head. He didn't know the agent's name.

"…sweetheart. Stick with me."

He smiled vaguely, but shook his head. The poison was fast acting. He exhaled, and did not breathe again.

For one moment, the world tilted. Clint clutched his bow as if it would anchor him. Then the woman closed Agent's eyes and stood. That was all the invitation Clint needed, and he was moving again. He grabbed her around the waist and launched them both into the air.


	3. Chapter 3

_You guys are the best. Seriously._

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She didn't scream, or cry, he had to give her that. She did tremble slightly, probably due to shock, but she took deep breaths and clung to him tightly. He wondered if it was luck, training, or good instincts that inspired her to shift so that she was clinging to his back, leaving his arms and legs free as they swung to a nearby rooftop. They landed lightly. Well, Hawkeye landed lightly. The woman practically barreled into the floor, taking most of the impact on her thighs and butt. He grinned crookedly. Luck, then.

He caught the arrow as it fell, then pulled her around a corner so that they couldn't be seen from the mansion. His focus now was to get out. The quinjet would be at the rendezvous in less than ten minutes, but it would leave if he wasn't there in twenty. Someone had known where he would be, where he would set his quiver, what arrows he would use.

And someone had switched them out.

All bets were off. There was no telling who- or what- they were running from now. And just to make it all that much harder, he'd just picked up a helpless civilian. He refused to look at her, instead taking in his surroundings, planning a route back to the rendezvous. If they could get onto the building just east, then make their way downstairs, they would make it in time. There was an air bridge arching overhead, connecting the building to one behind him. He eyed the metal grid supporting the bridge, calculating. He could make it, but not if he was carrying someone else. He finally turned around.

She was standing with her back to the brick wall he'd pulled her behind. Her eyes were closed, and she was taking deep, regular breaths. There was the slightest sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"Can you-"

She didn't open her eyes. "Shut up. Unless you are offering me water, shut up, and let me calm down, okay?" Her voice got more hysterical near the end of the sentence. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I just need to not go into shock. That's all. Do you have any water?"

He shook his head. He was tempted to just throw her over the gap, but she was right- she couldn't go into shock. He could get her out of this alive, as long as she could still move under her own power. After the way this mission had gone, SHIELD would want her alive.

"No. No, of course, you don't. Super-secret top-agent Robin Hood, and you don't have… No. Okay. Tell you what, give me something to do."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. She didn't look like she was in any condition to do anything. But if he pointed that out, she might lose it.

"If you jump, can you make it to that girder, there?" He pointed to a point midway across the bridge. She took a few steps forward and stared at it. Her eyebrows drew together, and she bit her lip. It was a good ten feet; he wasn't hopeful.

He was already trying to come up with another plan of action when she finally spoke.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I can make that. Can I have five minutes first?"

He shook his head. "If you can't make it I need to know. If you try, and you can't, you will die."

She turned around to glare at him.

"I said I could make it. Can I have five minutes first?"

Her shaking had stopped. She was still breathing carefully, but her glare was clear and focused. Anger was better than shock. He peered around the wall to the mansion. He didn't know that they had five minutes.

He also didn't know that he'd be able to get her across otherwise.

He nodded. "Five minutes."

Her shoulders relaxed just a little, and she stepped back to the shelter of the wall. He repositioned himself near the edge of the roof, crouched, keeping an eye out for anything threatening.

"Do you have a knife?" He glanced at her, then pulled out his knife and held it out. She tried to reach forward and take her other heel off at the same time and stumbled. He saw it coming, and shifted slightly so that she wouldn't knock him clean off the roof, and pushed her back up straight. She opened her mouth, then shut it again and took the knife. She plopped down next to him, and yanked the hem of her dress around. She fingered the material, sighed, and then used the knife to start a nick at the bottom. Using that as a starting point, she tore a slit all the way up to her waist. He was surprised to see that she was wearing what looked like dance shorts under the dress, which just barely peeked out of the new slit. Clumsily, she started a new tear on each side of the slit, just above her knees, then tore a large section of the dress completely off. He stood and offered a hand to help her up, but she ignored it, picking up the loose fabric and tearing it into three neat strips, then tearing one of the strips in half. With the efficiency he'd seen earlier, when she'd taken out the arrow, she began to wrap her right ankle with one of the strips.

"What's your name?" He needed to be able to call her something.

"Asalynn Liretto. You?"

He bit his tongue. He already knew something was wrong with this whole mission. It shouldn't surprise him that this woman, so obviously not the agent he'd been sent to kill, would share her name.

"Hawkeye."

She pressed her lips together and looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.

"That's not really a name."

She looked so piqued, he almost laughed. Instead, he asked another question.

"The arrow, it was barbed. How did you get it out?"

Her face lit up, and she dropped what she was doing to explain with her hands. "He was wearing silk. The Huns used to wear silk in battle, because it was so tough that arrows would actually push it into the wound, rather than tear through it. Then they could twist it, and the silk would catch on the barbs and wind up, and then they could pop those suckers right out. It was a fear tactic thing; their enemies would think they were demons, and break ranks." With a brilliant smile, she turned back to what she was doing.

Hawkeye nodded thoughtfully. He hadn't thought about the intimidation factor.

"Did it occur to you that leaving it in would've kept him from losing that much blood? Maybe saved his life?" He hadn't meant for his voice to be so harsh. Asalynn stopped wrapping and stared off into the skyline.

"Of course it did. But he didn't die of blood loss. He did because there was a piece of metal in his heart." She dropped her eyes to her hands, which were fidgeting with the fabric, winding it through her fingers, then pulling it out. "The longer it was in there, the more the heart tried to beat around it, the more damage it did. I had to get it out." She shook herself, untangled the fabric, and continued wrapping, more slowly than before.

He nodded, but didn't say anything. She was right, but that didn't make it easier. Didn't make her feel any less responsible. He sat down next to her and pulled out his quiver and began to examine his arrowheads, making sure that each one was where and what it was supposed to be. He noticed that she had stopped again, and was about to tell her to hurry up, they needed to move, when she spoke.

"He's the first one I've lost. On my own, I mean. I didn't realize it would be so… different. There's just… nothing. You can't do anything, so you just do something. Hold their hand, maybe, CPR, whatever makes them think they're gonna be okay. You tell them they're gonna be okay. I mean, I knew that, but it's different, when it's your call. 'Cause even when you say it, you know it's not true. And you're a dirty rotten liar."

He watched her for a moment, waiting to see if she was done. When she still didn't move, he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Now isn't the time to deal with this. We have to go." She glanced up, startled, as if she'd forgotten he was there.

"Right. Of course." She tied off the strips, then deftly used the two shorter pieces of fabric to wrap her hands and wrists in.

"Tendonitis, both wrists, and some serious injuries in my ankles and feet. I don't want to try this without support." She stood clumsily, using her hands to push herself up. Then she brought one heel into the arch of the other foot, and transformed.

The dress, with its wide neckline and exposed back, now hung asymmetrically around her knees, and the midnight blue set off her dark eyes. The angle of her head created a beautiful line from crown to fingertip, over smooth skin, broken only by the bit of fabric clinging to her shoulders. But more importantly than anything else, the clumsiness that had clung to her so far evaporated. She moved with the ease of long training, lifting on to the balls of her feet, then sinking down into a deep bend. Without warning, she launched into a series of jumps, turns and balances that even Nat would've been jealous of. She spun to a stop, not even breathing hard, and nodded.

"I miss having a shank, but it'll do. Okay, you first." She stepped back and fidgeted, watching him carefully. He slung his bow across his back, checked his quiver, and took a running start. He sprang off the roof, and flew through the air until he caught onto the steel girder. He used his momentum to swing forward, and landed on the next rooftop. He turned back to watch her.

She used the same running start he had, and launched herself off of the corner of the roof with a power that was surprising coming from such a small body. Her body arched perfectly through the air, but the direction of her movement was off, her center of gravity at her hips. Her palms smacked into the girder, and suddenly she was off-kilter. She'd come in at too much of an angle, and now she was flying, feet-first, straight for the edge of rooftop. Even if her feet landed, she wouldn't be able to hold on; she would bend backwards, probably snap her spine, smack her head into the wall, and fall to her death.

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_Got another chapter coming soon. And I'm always open to suggestions!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A little longer this time, mostly because you guys are just so gosh-darned nice to me!_

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He didn't hesitate. A quick click of the quiver, and he pulled out a blunt arrow and shot it, not even pausing to aim. It flew full force into her hip and bounced off, twisting her body ever-so-slightly in the air. Enough for him to reach out and catch her hand as her lower torso and legs smashed into the building. Her grasp went limp, and she bit her lip to keep from yelling, but he kept a firm grasp on her wrist and pulled her up. He lay her out on the ground, cursing, but she pushed him away.

"No, I'm fine. Just winded. Ow! Dangit, that hurts! Ow!" He held her wrist defensively in one hand and walked his fingers down her ribs with the other.

"I don't think anything's broken."

"Of course it's not. What are you, my mom? I can walk."

He was forced to agree with her, so he gave her a hand up.

"Come on, hard part's over. Just stairs now." She nodded; her face was a little white, but she walked without limping. The door to the inside was mercifully unlocked, and they dashed down the stairs as fast as Asalynn could go. Ten floors later, they were out on the streets, and Hawkeye steered her through the streets to the rendezvous. To his immense relief, no one followed them, and the quinjet was there waiting for them.

He had to help her into the quinjet, all the while reminding himself that in just a couple of hours, she would be SHIELD's responsibility.

Hawkeye was more than prepared to leave the questions to the more specialized agents at SHIELD, but Asalynn had no such qualms.

"Where are we going?" She didn't sound frightened, but she did sound fiercely curious. She wandered around the quinjet, inspecting things and occasionally poking them.

"Somewhere safe." He reclined in the seat, watching her lazily. As she moved around, he adjusted, ready to keep her from touching anything she ought not to.

"Uh-huh. That's specific. Okay, how about 'what the hell is going on'?" She tossed herself into one of the captain chairs and pulled her knees up to her chest, tucking her feet into the corner of the chair.

"I'm taking you into SHIELD. They'll be able to answer your questions there."

She shook her head, making her earrings flap against her cheeks.

"Nuh-uh. I don't want to wait. I want _you_ to answer my questions."

"Then stop asking for classified information," he snapped.

She scowled at him, then was on her feet again, pacing.

"You shot a man with a poisoned arrow." She whirled to face him. "A man who all but worshipped you, and you didn't even know his name. So what's that all about?"

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands.

"He was my backup. Something went wrong. He was supposed to be safe."

She snorted. "Yeah, some leader you are."

His eyes snapped up to her face, and he practically growled. "No, I'm not. But he is not the first man I've ever killed, and he will not be the last."

For a second, he thought that she was going to back down. She dropped her hands from her hips, and all of the confrontation slipped from her stance. But she didn't back down. Instead, she moved so suddenly that he didn't have time to stop her before she'd wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tucked her head against his ear. He froze, clenching his hands together, fighting the instinct her abrupt movement had triggered. Fury would be very upset if the one person who could possibly give them a lead arrived at base unable to speak.

"Sorry. It sucks. It wasn't your fault." Her voice was very quiet. She hugged him tighter, then let go and crossed back to the chair, curling up in it. She made an awfully small bundle.

He cleared his throat, slowly relaxing his hands.

"Get some sleep. We'll be there soon."

She just nodded, and was soon sound asleep.

Clint woke immediately and completely, without moving. He kept perfectly still, using all of his senses to ascertain if he was still in the quinjet. The texture of the leather seat he'd been napping in convinced him that he was; the dead was proof that they'd landed. He heard no sounds of breathing, other than Asalynn's almost-snores in the seat across from him, but if they'd arrived at SHIELD, the pilot would've woken him. He listened for one moment longer, then in one movement, slid off the chair onto his feet.

The quinjet was empty, except for Asalynn. The pilot was nowhere to be seen. He searched silently, furiously for his bow, but it was gone. A quick recon showed that there were no weapons left anywhere. Even his knives were gone. He peered out the cockpit, and swore.

Asalynn yawned, then said blearily, "Do you always swear when you're upset?"

He shifted to peer further out of the cockpit.

"Usually, yes."

She stood and padded up behind him, managing to both stub her toe and bang her hip into the pilot's chair. She let out a disgruntled "meh" each time, but didn't comment on her gracelessness.

"What are you upset about?" She stood on tiptoe behind him to peer over his shoulder.

He glanced at her, then returned his attention to the quinjet. No weapons, no pilot, and no clue as to where they were. He turned back to Asalynn and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Liretto-"

"Asa," she interrupted. He swallowed his growl.

"Asa. The mission has been compromised. If you know anything, you need to tell me now. Anything unusual, unexpected, suspicious?" She squirmed a little in his grasp, but he held perfectly still and didn't look away from her face. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"Well, the dress was a little weird…"

"Dress?" She blinked at his intensity.

"Yeah. I'm a medical intern. You think I can afford a dress like this? I actually wasn't going to go to that gala at all. But then Garret asked me to come- which is actually a little weird anyway, 'cause I would've thought he would've wanted to bring his boyfriend, but whatever- so I decided I could just wear whatever. But then when I got home last night- was it last night? Whatever- someone had dropped off this dress, and the jewelry. It was a little slinky for me, but I figured it was Garret, so… I don't know. It's stupid. Never mind."

Clint dropped released her abruptly and took a step back, thinking furiously. A dress like that, something totally out of character for Asa, but so typical for the target; an unexpected invitation for Asa to be just where the target was supposed to be… Someone had gone to great lengths to make sure that Asa had been mistaken for Agent Liretto. He nodded curtly. Asa stared at him, hands on her hips, as if he was mad.

"What is going on?"

He crossed to the storage compartments in the back and began rummaging through them for anything useful.

"I don't know. We're not at SHIELD, which is where we _should_ be." He slammed the compartment shut and paced the quinjet, glaring at the floor.

"And that means…?" She stepped aside to let him pace.

"It means that someone brought us here." He stopped and whirled to face her. "Listen very carefully. I don't know what they want, but my guess is information." She was nodding slowly, mentally repeating everything he said. "Someone's going to have a lot of questions for you." He jabbed a finger at her. "Answer them."

Her jaw dropped.

"What?" she spluttered.

"You heard me. Answer them. Don't hold back; don't try to protect anyone or anything. The sooner they find out you don't know anything useful, the better."

She cocked her head and wiggled her jaw back and forth thoughtfully, then nodded.

"Yeah, that makes sense. What about you?"

He stepped back, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm trained for this."

She mirrored his movement, and raised her eyebrows.

"For what?"

He was done with this conversation.

"Interrogation."

She swallowed, hesitated, then dropped her arms.

"Alright, fine."

"Good. Now, keep your head down, stay close, and _pay attention._ Got it?" She nodded vigorously, and after assessing her for a moment, he opened pressed a few buttons, opened the ramp, and ducked out of it.

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_There's a good one coming up next! As always, I love reviews almost as much as I love the Avengers._


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the wait, but I had to work out some plot stuff before I continued. I think I've got it now, so on with the show!_

_Also, I like to think that I know a lot about architecture, but I really don't. But I still like to think it. So cut me a break.  
_

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They were in a hangar. Asa had vague impressions of high-tech machinery mixed with a total disregard for cleanliness or organization before the guards showed up. Then it was mostly noise and fighting, over so quickly that she barely had time to get in one really good groin kick before they'd both been handcuffed and were being pushed through a large set of whoosh-y doors.

They left quite a few prone bodies behind. Or rather, Hawkeye did.

Once they'd been thoroughly captured, though, he made no attempt at resistance, so she didn't either. Instead, she tried to make herself useful. She had the nagging feeling that Hawkeye would remember every turn they made, and notice anything important along the increasingly luxurious hallways. So she ducked her head and studied their guards. There were six left, and they all wore neat black uniforms and a truly dazzling variety of weapons. They all kept their faces blankly stern- despite a lovely display of injuries- but they didn't walk in step or anything ridiculous like that. They pushed the two of them along with a martial inflexibility that Asa had a hard time keeping up with.

Hawkeye was having no such difficulties. His dark uniform blended with the guards', and he was so utterly at ease, that if it hadn't been for the intent with which he watched everything around them, he would've all but disappeared. Asa wondered how anyone he ever watched had ever missed that stare, then remembered how shocked she herself had been when the first arrow had appeared.

The wrappings on her feet were grimey and starting to pull loose by the time they were pushed through a set of large oak doors. Her mouth tweaked up at the heavy Victorian Gothic revival carvings in such a distinctly Neo-classical hallway. Hawkeye glanced at her with what she thought might be a question, so she waved him off while smothering a giggle.

She almost laughed out loud when the room they entered proved to be entirely Baroque in nature. The laugh died in her throat when she saw the woman waiting for them.

Asa was staring at herself.

Clint knew immediately that the woman in the chair with her hands folded in her lap was the woman he'd been sent to kill. Physically, she was an exact replica of Asa in every way. If a mirror could take open shock and turn it into a languid, threatening smile, they might've been reflections. When Agent Liretto spoke, the quality of her voice was so similar to Asa's that the different intonation was disorienting.

"So good to see you both. Sit down, won't you?" Liretto indicated a carved, upholstered couch across from her chair. The guards took a step back, and Clint touched Asa's elbow to pull her out of her shock, then sat. Asa shook her head, blinking rapidly, and collapsed next to him.

"I'm so sorry I don't have any tea to offer you, but that's rather cliché anyway, don't you think?" Liretto's smile was wide, but controlled in a way that Clint thought was completely beyond Asa. He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. Liretto raised her eyebrows.

"Forward little thing, aren't you? And so talkative! Alright then, I think introductions are in order. Why don't you start?"

He debated not saying anything, but he needed to know who this woman was. The silence would come later, when she started asking questions she didn't know the answers to.

"You know who I am."

"Of course, Agent Clint Barton, the infamous Hawkeye, one of Earth's mightiest heroes!" She sounded entirely sincere; Clint narrowed his eyes. Asa, on the other hand, was staring at him quizzically, and he could all but see her repeating his name to herself, cementing it in her memory.

"And Asa Liretto, of course. So pleased to finally meet you properly."

Asa opened her mouth, closed it again, shook her head, then spoke.

"I'm pretty sure I don't know you. At all. One hundred percent sure I have never seen you in my life." Liretto's face lit up in a parody of Asa's enthusiasm.

"Oh, of course you wouldn't recognize me. I didn't look like you when we met; how could I?" She laughed, almost a titter, and let the question hang. Clint hesitated, wondering whether to take the bait, but Asa beat him to it.

"Look, I'm super confused. How can you look like me at all?"

Liretto smiled again- Clint was really starting to hate that snide grin- and stood.

"It's an awful lot to explain. Why don't I show you? Agent Barton?" She held out her hand, palm up. He stared at it.

She tsked. "Your hand, please. I just need to touch it." He clenched his fist, but the confusion on Asa's face mirrored his own emotions, so he unclenched it slowly and held it out, just under Liretto's hand. She pursed her lips at his refusal to touch her, but reached out and stroked the back of his hand with one finger. He pulled his hand back with deliberate slowness, but Liretto was no longer paying attention.

There is a look that people get when someone is scratching their back, and they hit just the right spot. That was the look on Liretto's face: her eyes were closed, one corner of her mouth curved up luxuriously. It was the most natural expression Clint had seen on her yet, and he couldn't figure out why it was there.

Until she started melting.

Upwards.

She started melting in the opposition direction of gravity, starting at the feet and working upwards, and everywhere she melted, something changed. Dainty ankles and legs became thicker, wider. Her waist and bust disappeared, replaced by a bulk of muscle and broad shoulders. Her slim arms gained new definition, and her soft, fine features became more rugged.

And suddenly, Clint wasn't staring at Asalynn Liretto anymore.

He was staring at himself.

In a dress.

It was a good thing she hadn't offered them tea, because if she had, he would have choked on it. The absurd, hysterical part of his brain could not focus on anything but that damned red dress, and how ridiculous his hairy legs looked poking out from under it. Clint took a deep breath, told the hysterical part of his brain to shut up, and forced words out of his mouth.

"Well, that explains a lot."

* * *

_So, has anyone figured it out yet? ;)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey all! Sorry for the long break, but I got to go visit England! It was absolutely lovely, and some of things I learned and/or people I met may find their way into my writing yet. So! Onwards and upwards!_

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Liretto made very few concessions to the masculine body she now wore; she shifted her body only slightly, and her voice kept the lilting quality that Clint was coming to hate so much. In short, Clint got to experience how other people would see him if he dressed, moved, and talked like a woman.

Fantastic.

"It does explain a lot, doesn't it? I know it's horribly foolish of me, but I don't really see the harm, since neither of you will ever be able to pass the information on anyway, so do you mind if I monologue? Just for a moment?" She… he… she waited politely for both of them to nod, then crossed behind her chair and planted both calloused hands on its back.

"As you've seen, I'm a shape-shifter. Always have been. It's a very useful ability, and I'm quite sure I'm the only one alive who has it. Unfortunately, I still need a pattern. A single touch, the tiniest cell, is enough. Miss Liretto," she nodded at Asa, "was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. A train station, I think it was. I needed a new life, a new face, and she was pretty. Young, too- you couldn't have been older than seventeen. So I stole your DNA, your name, and let you go on your way. I kept an eye on you, of course. I needed to see how you would age, and you never know when having an unknowing, anonymous duplicate will come in handy." She giggled. "I joined SHIELD, carefully. I was in a great deal of trouble with any number of people, and SHIELD is a safe place to be. They couldn't know my true talents, of course, but I brought other skills to the table- computers are easy for me, and I can spot a threat a mile away. So I became one of their best agents, specializing in deep infiltration. All it took was a few hours out of SHIELD's eyes, and I could change my face and disappear. Soon, I was playing the board. I'm not sure how they found me out," she frowned slightly, "but as soon as they did, I knew I was in trouble. So, I leaked them info about at a dangerous information deal, dressed Miss Liretto up, and sent her in my place. You were _supposed_ to kill her," Liretto wagged her finger at Clint, an entirely disorienting experience, "Simple, elegant, tidy. The famous Hawkeye would take the threat out, and I'd be free to start a new life elsewhere."

Clint risked a question.

"So why did you switch out the arrowheads? If you hadn't, you probably would've gotten away with it. And how did you know where I would be?" Liretto waved a dismissive hand.

"Oh, come now, don't tell me you haven't figured it out?" Clint had his suspicions, but he kept his mouth shut. Asa shook her head.

"I was the pilot! Really. As for Agent Beecher," Clint glanced at Asa, but she was staring at her hands, chewing her lip. Liretto continued, "Your plan put him too close to Miss Liretto; he would see too clearly that she wasn't who she was supposed to be. He had to be eliminated." Liretto shrugged. "If you'd shot Miss Liretto like you were supposed to, you never would've known. It would've been nothing more than a stupid mistake."

Clint didn't make stupid mistakes, but he didn't tell her that. To everyone's surprise, it was Asa that spoke up next.

"Scars. What about scars?"

Liretto blinked rapidly, confused.

"What do you mean, dear?"

Asa looked up and faced Liretto blandly.

"Scars aren't part of a genetic DNA pattern, and I didn't get that scar on my left hand until a year ago. So how do you do scars?"

At the mention of Asa's hand, Liretto shifted back into her earlier shape, and Clint was relieved to be rid of his doppelganger. She laughed delightedly, and the sound wasn't quite as disorienting as it had been coming from a man.

"Oh, you're good! I like to think of it like making a dress. I may need a pattern to start from, but alterations are easy!" Liretto blinked, and her eyes shifted from azure to emerald to ruby, then settled back into the appropriate chocolate brown. "See? And I did mention that I've been keeping an eye on you. So glad that I did."

Her smile was much more threatening this time, and silence poured into the sitting room. Clint welcomed it, but Asa fidgeted.

"Okay, fine. I know you two are all James Bond deadly trained subterfuge-y people and there's probably some secret threatening communication code thing going on right now that I'm not getting," she struggled to put the words in the right order, trailed off, then picked up again, "But I'm super confused. What happens now?"

It was Clint's turn to blink in confusion. Hadn't he already explained this to her? Of course, if he could get them out of interrogation he would, but he needed her to be ready if he couldn't.

Liretto rose gracefully, and Clint and Asa automatically stood with her.

"I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Why don't I show you to your rooms, and you can get cleaned up?" She turned to the door and talked quietly to the guard, and Asa stared at Clint in utter bewilderment. He almost laughed, but just shook his head instead. He didn't know what was going on any more than she did.

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_Yeah, yeah, I know. A monologue. There are other, much cleverer ways of letting characters (and readers) know what's going on. Deal with it. I wanted to get this chapter done so I could move on to better things. As always, let me know what you thought! (Also, you guys are seriously the best readers ever. I keep all of your comments in a neat little folder in my email and pull them out whenever I'm having a bad-writer day.)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Alrighty, folks. Sorry for the wait, but I promise it'll be worth it. I've been talking with the lovely Teddy'sTwin, and we've decided that our stories go together beautifully, so we'll be doing some co-writing in the near future. We had to work out some details before I continued. Also, this is an excellent time, if you so desire, to go check out her story, Hope Rising. And without further ado..._

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The rooms were beautiful.

Seriously, Asa wasn't sure if she'd ever seen such skillful interior decorating. She was sure that the basic architecture was a subtle nod to Andrew Lloyd Wright at his finest, but the materials were a beautiful balance between natural and sleekly modern. The living space faded seamlessly into what appeared to be a totally empty kitchen, and an archway at the opposite end lead to a hallway sporting three doors- hinge kinds, not the kind that slid shut behind them upon entering. There were no windows, but the height of the ceiling and the well-lit proportions almost made up for it. She whistled in appreciation; Hawkeye stared around impassively.

"I'm so glad you like it." Liretto slithered around from behind them into the living room. "It's very important to me that my guests are comfortable." She began to stalk around, explaining things as she reached them.

"You'll notice that there are no useful tools anywhere- not even the kitchen. No electricity, except for the lights, which were specially matched to the color of the walls." They followed her reluctantly into the hallway. "Bathroom through here; it's rather rudimentary I'm afraid, but it'll do. Bedrooms," she opened two doors opposite each other to reveal two identical bedrooms. "Everything is made in one piece, and all of the furniture is attached to the floors. You can't even take the drawers out of the walls." Asa peered around the doorframe to where Liretto was demonstrating the dressers, which were indeed set directly into the walls next to the beds. "And of course, you don't have much to put into the drawers anyway, but I thought they were a nice touch. Homey." This entire time, Hawkeye had been watching everything with rapt attention, no doubt searching for anything that might aid an escape. Asa thought that he was less than pleased with what he saw.

"You'll be monitored, of course, but other than that, do feel free to make yourselves at home. I'll come round to visit later." Liretto smiled ferally at them, then paced to the door, which slid shut behind her. Hawkeye stood utterly still until she'd been gone for a full minute, then began a brisk investigation of the rooms. He tapped on walls, tested joints, and opened cupboards. Occasionally he would pause, leaned slightly forward as though listening, then move on. After having investigated every square inch of their cell, he came and sat in a chair next to Asa, perched on the very edge.

"She's right. There's no way out, and every word we say is being recorded. No video feed, though. Even Liretto would need some kind of camera for that."

Asa pursed her lips tightly together until he finished, then burst out, "What is up with this? I mean, if we're prisoners, what's with all the luxury?" She'd been bouncing ideas around in her head since they'd arrived, but wasn't pleased with any of them.

Clint's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Comfort. She wants us to lower our guard. Talk freely. That's why all the bugs are hidden. Listen to me, Asa." He looked her straight in the eyes. "There's no telling what she's going to do to us. She'll know that you don't have any valuable information. But soon, I may not be in any state to think clearly. You cannot let me relax. You cannot let me speak." Asa chewed her lip nervously, sifting through the implications of his words. "Do you understand?"

He was saying that Liretto was going to torture him. To hurt him until he was no longer lucid, then toss him back in here. In that state, there was no telling what secrets he could inadvertently let slip.

She nodded. He kept her gaze for a moment more, then stood with a sigh.

"Alright, then. We should get some sleep."

Asa closed her bedroom door behind her. It was illogical, but it made her feel a little safer.

There was no way to mark time, but Asa tried anyway. Mostly, she just assumed that Clint knew what he was doing and measured her days by the internal clock that seemed to guide him. Going by that standard, they were only left alone in the rooms about a week.

It felt like a year.

Clint spent the week in a host of mysterious tasks, mostly inspecting things that Asa couldn't seem to be able to see. She could only assume that he was looking for a way out, and judging by the fact that they never went anywhere, he was obviously less than successful. The door was impenetrable, there were no objects of any kind except furniture, which appeared to be all one piece with the floor, and they didn't even have running water. Sinks, yes. But not taps which could potentially be pulled off and used as weapons. Food came only when neither of them were in the front room, and it seemed the only things the guards were capable of making were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Asa spent the week pacing, and worrying. At least once during every waking period, she spent a few hours dancing. It was longer than she'd spent at the barre in a long time, and her body protested at first. Glad for the distraction, she pushed herself harder, but her body picked up old habits fast, and soon it wasn't enough to keep her safe from own thoughts.

At best, she paced. She paced carefully, refusing to let herself run, or stop. Running, she told herself, wouldn't help. She couldn't outrun people who held her captive. There was nowhere _to_ run. So she walked slowly. For something to do, she told herself.

At worst, she sat in the middle of the floor and hugged her knees to her chest. At worst she chewed on her lips and remembered. Memories of seeing herself, being threatened by her own mirror image, made her heart pound in her chest. The balcony, too, was a recurring theme, standing out in the cool, humid air in her new dress, and watching the sweet man she'd just danced with get shot in the chest. The dull thud of the arrow, the look of surprise on his face… she couldn't stop thinking about it.

At the worst, she remembered what it felt like when she pulled the arrow out of him. There had been a moment, just a single moment, when she thought she could save him. One moment when she had wanted to leave the arrow in, when that cursed instinct that she'd fought with her whole career had told her, "You can do this." As impossible as it seemed, something had told her that it made sense to heal the wound as she pulled the arrow out. That if she could do it slowly, it would be alright. But that was impossible. There was no way to close up the wound without removing the arrow first. So, just as all of her teachers and mentors had taught her, she shushed the voice and made a choice. She couldn't save him; there was too much damage. But still, she'd pulled up all of her medical training, known that the heart couldn't continue to beat around the barbed head, and removed it.

She'd been right. He bled out through her hands, and she couldn't stop it.

Asa shook her head, told herself to stop being a baby. She'd seen people die before. People she liked, cared about. People she was supposed to be able to save.

But this was different. It was never her fault, before. She was just an intern. Ultimately, it wasn't her decision. When the voice in her head told her to do something, she could suggest it, and let a qualified doctor make the decision. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn't. Most often, her suggestions were considered and discarded. Medicine was a science, not an art, and instincts were no match for years of research and facts. So it wasn't her fault. At the end of the day, she could tell someone's family that they had done everything they could.

Not this time. This time, she'd been too slow. She'd hesitated for a second, let herself wonder if there was another way to do it, and a man had died.

That was what really kept her pacing. That was what always drove her up onto her feet again, wouldn't let her sleep, and made her long for something other than this constant tedium. Anything was better than sitting around with nothing better to do than sit around and wonder 'what if.' Anything at all.

* * *

_Bum bum bum! What now? Well, keep reading and find out..._

_Also, by the way, you guys rock. Seriously, you're the best readers Of. ALL. TIME._


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! For being so awesome, here's a treat. Two chapters at once! 'Cause you make my heart so happy. :)_

_Just a word of warning, a little bit of unpleasantry in this chapter. Nothing graphic, but nothing nice either. You have been warned._

* * *

They came for her first.

Sudden motion woke her, and she was too stunned even to scream. She was being carried… there was yelling… blurs of motion… sickening thumps… Startled, she realized that she was struggling, that most of the screaming was coming from her. But the guard carrying her ignored her completely, except to shift her in his arms so she couldn't fight. She almost started laughing when she realized that it really only took one person to carry her, no matter how she struggled.

The hallways were a blur, and when they finally reached another sliding door, all she could focus on was that it was identical to the sliding door that kept them in their own set of rooms. Perversely, the room behind the door was equally familiar, and somehow comforting.

It reminded her of a hospital, maybe one of the nicer ones that she'd worked in. Everything was white or near white, and that same sterile smell entered her lungs with each gasping breath. Her mind cleared a little, and started orienting herself with the force of long habit. She quickly realized that none of the equipment in the room was anything she'd studied or seen. Everything glistened with that sleek menace that seemed to be Liretto's trademark: large machines that vaguely resembled twisted X-ray imagers or vitals monitors loomed from corners, and the center of the room was dominated by something that looked like a cross between an operating table and a dentist's chair.

It was here that she was deposited, and before she had time to protest, strapped in securely. An errant memory of one particular patient, prone to dangerous seizures, flashed through her mind. He'd tried to wrench himself free of the safety restraints, and gotten a broken wrist for his troubles. She lay still.

From where she was sitting, Asa could see only bits of equipment. A tray of surgical tools winked at her from a table to one side, a few holograph screens glowed on the pristine walls. She heard the doors behind her whoosh open, and she suddenly couldn't swallow. She pulled at the restraints, and was unreasonably glad when they were so tight that no one could see her struggle.

Liretto stalked up behind her and smiled sweetly. One of the guards brought her a lightweight chair. She took her time settling into it, crossing her legs and smoothing her dress.

"Now, I just have a few questions."

Liretto asked about her life, her family, her schooling, the gala, Hawkeye. Sometimes the questions were silly, trivial. Sometimes they were horribly personal, embarrassing. Asa clenched her jaw and answered them. The more she talked, the more a nasty, guilty hole open in her stomach. She called to mind the look on Clint's face when he'd told her to answer Liretto's questions, and held it against the hole, like a bandage. She kept answering, tried to keep her eyes on Liretto's face for any reactions. She seemed both pleased and annoyed with Asa's answers. Finally, she sighed.

"That's what I thought. You are one of the most singularly useless people I've ever known." She stood as if to leave, then stopped.

"But I really should be absolutely sure, shouldn't I?"

This time, she didn't smile. She just bared her teeth and started asking again.

Asa woke up in her room and immediately wished she hadn't. For a second, she thought she might cry, but she didn't. She just trembled and gasped and tried to shut her brain off. There was a voice, though, and it wouldn't let her fall back to sleep.

"Asa. I know you're awake. Listen to me. Asa."

She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

"It's okay, Asa. Focus. What hurts?"

Her head was starting to clear. She recognized the voice. Hawkeye? Clint. That was his name, Clint. But she thought if she tried to talk she might start sobbing, so she just shook her head.

There was a long pause. Finally, "I need you to describe your symptoms. Headache, nausea, dizziness?"

Asa took a few more deep breaths, tried to steady herself. Symptoms. Right.

"Yes. Headache. Sharp headache. Disorientation." She blinked, tried to pay attention to what her body was telling her. "Ribs. My ribs hurt, and my lungs, I think." She took another breath to test this theory and coughed violently. It took a few minutes before she could talk again. "Aching pain, stomach, legs, upper arms. Bruising, probably. Light-headedness, possibly due to blood loss." The familiar routine helped her focus. It kept her mind away from the white room, and that smile, and…. "Lacerations on the face and chest. Deep, but clean."

"Good. What else?" He pulled aside her blankets and reached out to begin examining her. She flinched away. He didn't pull back, but held very still, his hands hovering over her shoulders. "I'm not going to hurt you." She squeezed her eyes shut again, trying to keep her hands from trembling, and let him touch her. Just focus on the hands. "Stay with me, Asa. You cannot fall asleep."

"Right. Concussion." Gently, Clint rotated her arms in her sockets, testing her joints, checking for broken bones or torn ligaments. "Possible, but not likely."

"What happened?"

She had to swallow her scream, and it came out more as a whimper. She shook her head, over and over. She didn't want to think about what happened. Couldn't. If she didn't remember it, it never happened.

"Asa, I need to know what we're dealing with. If I ask you questions, can you answer them? Just yes or no. That's all I need."

Finally, she nodded. Yes or no. She could do yes or no. She squeezed her eyes shut and Clint started asking.

Afterwards, she would never quite remember what he asked, but they all lead to the same conclusion. Liretto was old-fashioned. No fancy hallucinogenic torture serums or psychological manipulation. She just preferred to have people beaten until they did what she wanted. As she grew more lucid, Asa realized how odd that was, that this sly fickle woman would prefer brute force over, say, a combination of dopamine and strong hallucinogens.

Then again, Asa wasn't really that valuable.

She rather suspected that that was the reason she was allowed to recover in peace. She still flinched away anytime Clint came near her, which made her flush with shame, and she couldn't sleep for the nightmares, but physically at least, she was more or less sound before they came for Clint.

As the hours crawled by, Asa decided that she was not meant for solitary confinement. At least when Clint had been there, there'd been someone to stare at her flatly when she paced herself dizzy. At least she'd known that he was alright. She'd already prepared the best she could; the water from her meals pooled in the sink, and her sheets lay in a shredded pile of bandages next to the couch. She'd had to use her teeth to start the tears, but they were quality linen, and had torn easily. She would've given anything for some painkillers, but not even obsessive movement was helping her think of any possibilities. There was simply nothing useful in the twisted apartment that made up their cell.

She tried sleeping, and meditating, but she couldn't sit still long enough for either. She considered running through some dance exercises, but decided to save her strength. There was no telling what kind of medical attention Clint was going to need when he came back. She tried not to focus on that, though, because it reminded her of the hospital room, and Liretto's knowing smile. If she let her mind stray to that room just for a second, she started hyperventilating and had to sit against the wall and put her head between the knees.

She wasn't sure how long Clint was gone, but when the guards dragged him back in, it was all Asa could to stand in the corner and let them dump him on the couch before she ran to him and started examining him. He was conscious, but not lucid. His pupils were dilated, but reacted when she blocked the light. Any head trauma was minor, then. She fell quickly into a rhythm, dictated by years of training, and precise, despite the roaring in her ears. She cleaned and bandaged and shushed him when he tried to talk. Thankfully, he didn't appear to have any broken bones or to require any stitches, though what she would do when he did frightened her.

The thing that worried her most, though, is that no matter how she shushed, he would not stop talking.

"Clint, you need to stop talking. Bugs, remember?"

He didn't hear her, or else didn't understand her if he did. He told her that his head hurt, but not to worry because Natasha could wrap it up.

She wasn't sure who Natasha was, but she was sure that she didn't want Liretto to know either. She tried talking over him, covering his mouth, even telling him that Natasha wanted him to be quiet. Nothing worked. Finally, she did what anyone who'd ever worked with children would do.

She ignored him.

Halfway through wrapping a length of bed sheet around his sprained shoulder to keep it in place and relieve the pain, she simply stopped what she was doing, turned around, and sat down with her back to him. It took him a few seconds, but he trailed off, watching her in bleary confusion. As soon as he was silent again, she came back and continued her administrations. When he opened his mouth, she once again stopped what she was doing and refused to look at him.

He passed out before he made the connection.

She didn't dare sleep while Clint was there. She didn't want Liretto to know that Clint was being properly cleaned and bandaged, for fear that she would separate them. A nasty little voice in her head told her that she was such a poor doctor, Clint might be better off without her help anyway, so why did it matter? She told it to shut up.

So she stayed up until she heard the guards coming again, then quickly pulled off the wet bandages over his cut and unwrapped his shoulder, tossing them behind the couch just in time. The guards picked him up and dragged him out just as casually as they'd brought him in. Then all she could do was wait, and try to catch some sleep.

It became a pattern. When Clint was gone, she slept on the couch. When he was there, she did her best to patch him up and keep him quiet. Much to her surprise, her ignoring trick worked. Soon, he'd figured out that when he was quiet, she could help with the pain a little. When he wasn't, it just kept hurting. Everything about her training screamed at her that this was _wrong¸_ that she couldn't refuse to help someone who needed it just because they wouldn't shut up.

_I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required…_

The only way to find any kind of balance in herself was to tell herself firmly that this _was_ required. Liretto couldn't know anything more than she already did. Asa didn't even dare talk to Clint, not even the calm, meaningless reassurances that were so second-nature to her. She even considered singing lullabies for a brief moment, but decided even that might be too telling. Mostly, she just sat with him while he slept.

She'd never been more grateful for her dance lessons in her life. It was the only thing to do in this sick place that shut her mind off for even a moment. While Clint slept, she pushed her body harder and harder, falling back into habits long ignored. Once, when she thought he'd be out for at least two days, she noticed Clint watching her, bleary-eyed but calm. That's when it occurred to her.

She might not be able to sing to calm her patient, but she could dance.

It became part of the routine. Whenever he was well enough to turn his head and open his eyes, she danced. It felt odd, this audience of one, off-balance somehow. But it seemed to help with the pain.

_All measures that are required,_ she reminded herself firmly, and kept dancing.

Some days, though, there was nothing she could do. Some days, Liretto returned him shaking and sweating, but for no apparent physical reason. Sometimes, Asa found neat little needle-punctures that spoke of drugs injected directly into his system, but sometimes there was nothing, and all Asa could do was sit by helplessly. And Asa realized something.

Liretto hadn't just let her off easy because she wasn't important.

Liretto had let her off because she knew this was coming. She knew that the very worst torture that she could put Asa through would be to render her completely useless. The thought made Asa almost hysterical with laughter. The woman wasn't just looking for information. She was an out and out sadist. Slowly, one helpless breath at a time, Asa started to unhinge. She knew what was happening, knew that she should keep herself together, but she just couldn't seem to manage it. She still patched Clint up when she could, but other than that, the minutes of her life seemed to fluctuate between giddy recklessness and total hopelessness. She was losing it.

Perversely, it was what Liretto had counted on being the last straw that saved Asa. After months of careful planning, Liretto had finally decided that the best way to break her captured hero, once and for all, would be to break his hands.

Permanently.

A man who can't move his fingers is a man who can't shoot a bow.

She was delicate about it, of course. Really, it didn't require much force, just precision. The three first fingers on the left hand, and the thumb, snapped cleanly in two places. That was all it took, really. She'd left the little finger, delighted with the thought that if he ever tried to recover, the tendon connected the last two fingers would keep him from controlling his pinkie independently.

Asa realized immediately what had happened. As Clint hissed in pain, she inspected the hand carefully, and let out a string of profanities she'd learned from him. If they'd been in a proper hospital, there would've been no problem. A simple surgery, a few weeks in a cast, some time with a good physical therapist, and Clint would have full use of his hand again.

But here? Like this? With nothing more than a few strips of cloth and a sink full of tepid water? It couldn't be done. That was what all of her training told her. The best she could do was wrap it up and try to keep him from moving it too much.

But there was that other voice. The little instinct at the back of her head. The more she looked at his hand, the more she itched to touch the bone, as if she could knit the break back together. She growled in frustration, then giggled. She thought she was more than a little crazy.

She couldn't just do nothing.

And that was what saved her.

For the first time, she felt like in her life, though she knew vaguely she'd had a life before this, she made a decision. She needed equipment. She needed surgical tools, proper bandages, a suture needle. She needed sterile water and anesthesia. The only place she'd seen any of those things was the hospital room. She'd avoided even thinking about it, but now that she was going insane, it didn't seem to be as difficult. She could remember the layout perfectly, and she remembered seeing everything she needed in the room, within easy reach of the chair/table hybrid.

Her plan was simple. Get in, get the supplies, get out.

The first and last parts would be easy. It would be the middle bit, the stealing medical equipment without being noticed bit, that would be hard. She paced as she thought, ideas tossing around inside her head. Clint was often gone for more than two or three days at a time. There was no way Liretto stayed awake and with him that long. There must be guards. And if they kept watch for days at a time, those guards must switch off. It was her best option.

Carefully, swallowing back her fears, she leaned over Clint and whispered, "I can't, she can't find out. Don't make me." Then she curled up in the chair and pretended to sleep. Sure enough, not a half hour passed before the guards came for her. Just the slightest hint that Asa knew something worth knowing, and Liretto already wanted to talk to her again.

It was harder, this time, but also easier. Harder, because everything hurt worse. Easier, because she had a plan.

_And because I'm crazy,_ she thought.

Liretto left after a while, frustrated. The guards stood at the door, their backs to Asa. She started pulling at the straps.

She had small hands and smaller wrists, but the straps were tight and sturdy, and her hands were bloody by the time she got them out. She hesitated for a moment, not knowing if the guards could hear her, if they would catch her the second she moved, then remembered Clint's hand. She took a deep breath, and unstrapped herself. As quick as she could, she reached out and started snagging things, tucking them into the strip of fabric she'd tied around her waist, under the disgusting remains of her dress. When she peeked around the back of the chair, she could see the guards, but they weren't facing her, and she moved quietly, for a wonder. Once she had everything she needed, she lay back in the chair, redid the straps with her right hand, then forced the blood-slick hand back into its proper place. All she had to do now was wait.

At some point, she must've passed out. When she woke, she was on the floor, next to the couch that had become Clint's hospital bed. She tried to shake off her disorientation, and suddenly remembered her tools. Frantically, she felt at her waist, then sighed in relief.

She had everything she needed.

She worked quickly, applying the anesthesia first and praying that it was the right amount. She hesitated when she got to his hand. She could try to just reset the fingers. It was the right thing to do, really. But it just didn't feel right. Six months ago, she would've known exactly what to do. Now, she fought the urge to open up all four of his fingers to look at the bones. But what good would just resetting the bones do, if she couldn't see what she needed to do? It was unorthodox, certainly, but she didn't exactly have an X-ray machine. If Clint was ever going to recover- physically, mentally, as a human being- he was going to need those fingers.

She picked up the scalpel.

She tucked the end of the bandage, then slumped to the floor with a sigh. It had been long, tricky, difficult work, but she thought that she'd managed to operate successfully. She wondered vaguely what you would call a surgery where you slit skin and tendon just to get to the bone. She knew that a cut tendon like that wouldn't heal easily, maybe even less easily than the bone. She'd been able to see what she was doing though, and had been surprised to find that the breaks weren't as bad as she'd thought. She'd re-stitched the tendons, too, after she was finished.

It was ludicrous. Logic told her that she'd done more harm than good.

So why did she sleep easy for the first time since the gala?

They didn't come for either of them again. Food stopped coming. Asa wondered, as she tried to work up a little moisture in her mouth, if this was some kind of punishment. Her thoughts were muffled, and her hands shook as she squeezed the last of the water into Clint's mouth.

Well, if they didn't come soon, he wasn't going to need it anymore anyway.

* * *

_What now? Are they going to go through all of that just to starve to death? ;) Well, you'll just have to wait and find out! Mwah-hah-hah!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Let the plot move along! Also, if you haven't taken a look at "Hope Rising," you're going to want to within the next few chapters. I'll try to keep everyone up to speed, but it's just easier if you've read it._

_Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. I do try to do the appropriate research for my writing, but the fact remains that I simply don't have the inclination/talent/sheer guts to go to medical school, so there will probably be mistakes. Just go with it_

* * *

Asa thought maybe she was awake. It was hard to tell, because it was warm and she was very comfortable, and there seemed to be a conversation going on somewhere over her head. She was quite sure that it was just her and Clint in the cell, though, and she'd been sleeping on the floor. So maybe she was still sleeping?

"Miss? Can you hear me?"

Asa groaned. She could. She just didn't want to. She wanted to go back to sleep.

"Very good. Can you talk?"

She groaned again. Maybe if she pretended she was incoherent, the voice would leave her alone. There was a pause, then the voice- a man's, she thought- started talking again, but not to her this time.

"She should be lucid by now. Set up the TBI, we need more information."

TBI? That wasn't an acronym she was familiar with. Curious, she opened one eye.

She was definitely in a hospital. A real one, this time, though far more comfortable than any hospital she'd ever been in. A man in a lab coat, a doctor, she assumed, stood next to her bed. Another man, probably a nurse, scribbled notes on her chart. The walls were tastefully wallpapered, and the lights were too warm for a standard sterile hospital. She even had real sheets and blankets on her bed, not the cheap plastic-wrapped kind.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, working out how to use it again. Finally, she croaked, "TBI?"

The men turned startled. The doctor smiled warmly.

"Excellent. I'm glad to see you awake. TBI stands for Total Body Imager. Rather a simplistic name, but it's Stark's technology, so he gets to name it. It uses a combination of scanning and resonance technologies to create a virtual reproduction of the body. Lets us see everything from the brain to the toes."

"Oh." Asa's eyebrows furrowed. "Where… where am I?"

"Ah." The doctor looked away. "I'm not sure that I'm supposed to tell you that."

She wanted to argue, but she felt dizzy and neither her mouth nor her brain were working terribly well, so she refrained.

"You're safe, though. I promise."

"And Clint?" She didn't look up.

"He's going to be fine."

Asa let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. And with that, she promptly fell back to sleep.

This time, when she woke up, the doctor was nowhere to be found. She felt a little better, so she cautiously propped herself up on the headboard. Looking around, she started when she realized that she had company.

The man sat in the corner, looking menacing and watching her closely with his one good eye. She returned his stare with a surprising lack of fear. She was too tired to spend energy being afraid of someone who hadn't done anything except watch her.

"Asalynn Liretto."

Asa winced. She wondered if she would ever get used to using her last name again?

"Asa."

The man nodded.

"You're a talented individual, Asa. Are you aware of that?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Asa blinked in surprise.

"Wait, what?" Talented? At what? Dancing? Getting kidnapped?

"The world has never seen a healer of your potential."

The words were not what she had been expecting, and she let out a whumph of breath, as if she'd been hit in the stomach.

"What on earth? I'm just an intern! I'm not even the best intern in my program," she protested, almost more to herself than to him. The man pulled out a manila folder and held it in his lap.

"You're not the top intern. But you are undoubtedly the best."

This man, with his folder and his eye patch and his calm know-it-all attitude, was getting on her nerves. But she refused to show even as much weakness as a deep breath, and kept her voice level.

"And what makes you think that?"

The man considered her silently for a long moment. Asa had the feeling she was being weighed, measured, and tested. When he spoke, she thought that she had not been found wanting.

"Are you aware of Agent Barton's medical condition?"

Asa sat straight up.

"Wait, the doctor told me he was okay? Has his condition changed?"

The man held out a hand reassuringly.

"No. He's fine. That's what's incredible. After what that man has been through, he should be comatose at best. He should not be fully lucid and impatient for a complete recovery. He absolutely should not be able to use his left hand. So what I want to know, is what did you do?"

Asa relaxed back into her pillows.

"Um, not much. There wasn't a lot I could do. Tried to keep things clean, mostly, and stop the bleeding. Tried to immobilize a few sprains and keep him hydrated. His hand, though… what's the prognosis?"

The man stood.

"Why don't you come see?"

Slowly, carefully, Asa pushed back her covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed. They dangled off the edge, of course, but she could tell that the smooth cream tile would be cold underfoot. Thankfully, she was wearing something resembling white scrubs, and not one of those flimsy hospital gowns. She sighed, and slipped off the edge of the bed. She took a few cautious steps, and pleased with her body's response, returned her attention to the man.

"Wow. How long was I out?"

"At least a week. You were seriously malnourished, and-"

"My body defended itself by going into starvation mode until I'd gotten enough nutrients. Yeah, I know. I was probably suffering from pretty severe exhaustion, too."

The man nodded, then held out a hand.

"Agent Nick Fury."

She didn't pause to eye the hand before she shook it.

"Pleased to meet you. I guess."

"Shall we?"

Thankfully, Clint's room wasn't far. The hallways were clean and well-lit, but lacked the glaring sterility of hospitals. More like a military base, she thought. Clint had said something about a headquarters. There'd been an acronym, too, but she could not at this moment remember what it was. The door that Agent Fury led her to was the automatic slide-y kind, and Asa shied away from it, then made a face and forced herself through it. It helped if she held her breath, like she was driving under a bridge.

Clint's room was just as comfortable as hers. She wondered if this was standard medical procedure here, or if it was just for people who were expected to sleep for a week straight?

Clint himself was asleep. She had crossed to his bed in two steps, and it suddenly hit her how truly awful he looked. The whole time with Liretto, she'd been calm, clinical. It was the only way she could help him.

Now she saw, with perfect clarity, exactly what had been done to him.

He looked exhausted. His cheeks were hollow, and there was deep bruising under his eyes. The cuts on his face had been neatly sutured and bandaged, but splashes of red, blue and purple stretched from behind his right eye all the way down to his jaw line. His hand, where it sat on top of his blankets, was wrapped in thick layers of white plaster all the way up past his elbow. She knew that the rest of him, not visible at this moment, was one massive patchwork of abuse. His breathing was shallow, and he slept lightly, feverishly.

Asa fought back the urge to vomit, and had to sit quickly on the edge of the bed as the world tilted around her. She closed her eyes and focused on not hyperventilating. When she felt a little calmer, she made herself stand, and in order to avoid looking at Agent Fury, crossed to the chart hanging on the end of his bed. She flipped through it with quick efficiency, then set it back with a sigh.

"He's going to be fine. I think he's probably going to need more PT- sorry, physical therapy- than they have scheduled, but his tendons are healing remarkably fast."

She knew that Agent Fury knew all of this, but saying it out loud made her feel more in control.

"Yes, they are. What I want to know is how you knew they would."

Asa looked up and blinked in genuine surprise.

"I didn't."

"Any other doctor would've just set the bones and hoped for the best. You saved the hand. Agent Barton has been the subject of some… alterations, designed to aid his marksmanship. Including improved resilience in the muscles and tendons of the hand. So I repeat, how did you know?"

Asa shook her head slowly, and took her time before answering, trying to work through the tangle of her thoughts.

Fury interrupted her again.

"I should make it clear, Asa, that I'm not accusing you of anything. Our sources are quite sure that you're not a spy or an enemy agent. But the fact remains that you knew, without medical equipment or having to ask, that this was the best procedure for Agent Barton."

"I didn't know. I… suspected, I guess. It just felt right."

"Hardly an acceptable justification for performing surgery, Dr. Liretto."

Asa winced again.

"Asa, please."

Agent Fury just watched her silently.

"Okay, fine. I know it's not. I know better, I swear I do. It was just… there was nothing I could do! And she knew it! That goddam bitch knew there was nothing I could do!" At some point during this, Asa had ended up on the floor, back to the wall. And for the first time, she cried.

She didn't care that she was on the floor in the hospital room, that Agent Fury was watching her, that she was going to be fine. She sobbed like a child, great heaving gasps of breath and runny nose and probably splotchy skin. She cried until she ran out of tears, and felt a little better after. She wiped her face with her hands and stood shakily. She couldn't look at Fury.

"Um, sorry. About that. I… sorry."

She thought she'd never been more embarrassed in her life.

"Are you finished?"

A little bit of anger hardened in her stomach, and she was grateful for it.

"Leave her alone." Asa turned to Clint in surprise. His eyes were closed, but he was obviously awake. The monitors that tracked all of his stats had shifted slightly. She crossed to the sink and washed her hands quickly, then pulled a flashlight out of a cupboard. She walked briskly to his bedside, but when she tried to pull one of his eyelids opened, he turned his head and made a noise of protest. So instead, so took his pulse the old fashioned way, and felt his forehead.

"You're awake! How do you feel?"

"Like hell. Like you. What are you doing here?" It took Asa a second to realize that he was talking to Agent Fury and not to her.

"Asa was concerned about you. I brought her here."

"And made her cry. God, Fury, what is it with you?"

Fury ignored him, and addressed Asa.

"You should get back to bed, and I'd like to talk to you a bit more. Privately. If you don't mind?" He held the door open for her.

Clint cracked one eye open.

"Don't let him get to you. The crying… Well, it's good that you can feel it. Means you're healing."

"And you? How do you feel?"

"Told you. Like hell."

"Good. Let me know when you start itching. That means the bandages are ready to come off." She smiled and winked at him before she walked out.

She settled back into her bed, and Fury returned to his chair in the corner. She would've taken the other chair, but she didn't think she was up to it. Besides, this was her room, and she was going to act in it however she pleased.

"You said you wanted to talk to me."

"Yes. Asa, do you know what S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for?"

Ah! That was the acronym she'd forgotten.

"No. But I do remember Clint mentioning it."

"Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. Do you know what we do?"

Asa shrugged. "Protecting, I would guess. You know, from the name. Top secret, save the world kind of stuff."

"You're right, more or less. S.H.I.E.L.D. has any number of projects, most of which are… delicate in nature. One of these is the Avengers Initiative."

Asa nodded. "Yeah, I've heard of them. They were all over the T.V. Clint's one, yeah? Hawkeye?"

Fury inclined his head once.

"They're a… unique group of people. You might not even call them people. But they're the best protection this world has against things it can't possibly understand."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Okay… and why are you telling me this?"

"I want you to join them."

Asa choked on her own breath, coughed for a few minutes, then spluttered, "What?"

Fury stood and paced slowly.

"We've always known that the Avengers were… volatile. The longer they work together, the more reckless they become. Injuries are becoming more and more common. Frankly, Asa, they need someone to keep them alive." As he said this, he stopped, and just looked at her.

The silence stretched, and Asa finally ducked her head.

"And what makes you think I could possibly be that person?"

Fury started pacing again.

"What you did with Agent Barton was incredible. There was no way you could have known about his improved hands, but you did. I've checked the rest of your work history; when doctors follow your suggestions, people get better faster. We took the liberty of some scans while you were unconscious." He crossed back to the folder on the chair. Asa wasn't sure whether to be offended about the invasion of privacy, but finally decided that a few brain scans were the least of her problems. "This is your brain." He held out a print of the scan. Asa took it curiously.

"But, that's not possible." She'd never seen a scan like it before. "This is not my brain."

"Yes, it is. You are what laymen call a mutant."

Asa gasped. "Excuse me?"

"A mutant is a person who is born somehow different than the average person. Sometimes, the difference is physical and very obvious. Other times, the differences are much subtler. Very occasionally, the mutations are entirely mental, as in your case. As far as we can tell, you have an extra sense."

"Explain."

"This section of the brain?" He tapped the anomaly. "It controls perception and interpretation of the senses." Asa nodded. She wasn't a brain surgeon, but she could correctly identify the areas of the brain. "Thankfully, this doesn't affect all of your senses all the time. It appears only to allow you to perceive details about people that others do not. Because you have no frame of reference for this knowledge, it translates as an instinct, or an impulse."

Asa scowled, then her training caught up with her, and she considered it. She nodded slowly.

"That would make sense… but what kind of details?"

"Well, Agent Barton's hand, for one. In another instance, you seemed to realize that a woman's veins were particularly weak, and favored a much milder drug about a more standard one. You regularly give left-handed people shots in the right arm, without needing to ask which their dominant. Your career is littered with cases like these."

"But…" Asa trailed off. Her instincts were not to be trusted. Not ever. Not when they told her the exact opposite of what she knew she ought to do. For a second, she could feel an arrow shaft in her hand.

"No two human beings are exactly the same, and you seem uniquely suited to find these differences. We think that this ability will prove most useful when the differences are the most extreme."

"Like the Avengers."

"Like the Avengers."

Asa swallowed hard, and made herself look up and meet his gaze.

"And if I say no?"

There was another of those long silences.

"Then S.H.I.E.L.D. will return you to your former life, including helping you find another internship."

Asa looked down at her hands and plucked at her blankets.

"I'll have to think about it."

Fury nodded once.

"Of course. Feel free to visit Agent Barton, though both of you still need rest."

"Thank you."

Fury turned off the lights when he left, and Asa was left in the dark, full of the greatest tangle of thoughts and emotions she'd ever known. After chasing herself around in circles for the better part of an hour, she finally fell asleep.

Asa felt better the next day. That week of sleep had done her a world of good, and of course, she'd never suffered the same abuse that Clint had. Upon further exploration, her room proved to have an attached bathroom. When she approached the mirror, she was surprised at her own reflection.

She'd never been skinnier, she thought with an attempt at good humor. Too skinny. Her cheekbones stuck out oddly, and her eyes sat a little deeper than she was used to. She had a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing too out of the ordinary for someone with her level of clumsiness. They were healing nicely, and would probably be gone by the end of the week. Mostly, she looked tired. Some good sleep, and a few solid meals, and she would be back to more or less normal.

She told herself the haunted look would fade, too.

The biggest change, though, was her hair. She hadn't had hair longer than her chin since before she'd graduated high school. Now, dark curls tickled her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it, pulled it up off of her neck and piled it on top of her head. She turned her head one way, then the other. It was going to be a right pain, which is why she'd cut it off in the first place, but she had to admit that it was kind of pretty.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, she wondered about Fury's job offer. It was true that really, she wouldn't be leaving much behind. Her only family was her dad, and she was attached neither to her internship nor her roommates. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, personal physician to the world's mightiest heroes. She snorted, laughing. That was a thought.

So what was holding her back?

She tried to tell herself that it was all just too much, too fast. She'd get used to the idea. They couldn't expect her to change her entire life in one day! But the honest part of her knew that even despite all that, she should be excited, if not ecstatic. No, the reason she was so reluctant had much less to do with what she would be leaving behind and much more to do with what she'd be getting into. She sighed, then let down her hair, braided it quickly, and set out in search of Clint.

The door was easy to find, and she had to hold her breath to get through again. He was awake when she got there, and the doctor from the other day was there, examining him.

"Ah, Miss Liretto."

"Asa, please." She was glad that she was already used to going by Asa.

"Asa. Good to see you up and about. Officially, you can be released at any time. Just make sure that you get plenty of sleep and water, and don't strain yourself. But I don't have to tell you that."

Asa shook her head with a smile.

"No. And how's our patient doing?" She reached out with the force of habit for the chart in the doctor's hand. He pulled it away gently.

"He's doing fine. Right, Agent Barton?"

Clint nodded. He still looked tired, but he was definitely fully lucid and he didn't seem to be hooked up to any pain medications. Asa glanced up at the doctor.

"No drip?"

He shook his head. "Agent Barton prefers to do without medication."

"What about nutrition?"

"He's been eating reg-"

"Three meals a day," Clint interrupted. "And Doctor Jones says I can be up and about tomorrow, if I don't push it."

"I agree. And how's your hand?"

He shrugged, and wouldn't look at her.

"I can't move it yet."

Asa smiled. "Of course not. After all that trouble I went through to make sure the bones set right? You'd better let that heal itself, young man."

This time he did look at her, and held her gaze.

"Thank you." He glanced down at a mottling bruise on her arm, and she knew he wasn't just thanking her for the surgery. He knew what she'd had to do for the tools, or been told. Her smile lost its humor, but not its sincerity.

"You're welcome."

They had a briefing that afternoon, in Clint's room. Fury was there, and two women. The dark-haired one, who looked like she was serious about getting stuff done, was Agent Hill. The other, who was beautiful and sat next to Clint and Asa had to tell herself _not _to be jealous of, was Agent Natasha Romanoff. Asa's heart gave a little pang when Fury introduced her.

Asa wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it mostly just consisted of both of them telling Fury and the other agents what had happened. Asa had stumbled a little, but she sat in a chair facing Clint, and he nodded encouragingly at her whenever she struggled. Natasha just stared at her, not a glare, but hostile nonetheless. Clint never stuttered, but spoke in a flat, calm voice that set Asa on edge.

After they spoke, it was Fury's turn. He told them how they'd finally managed to track the quinjet, back to Liretto's lair, but it was far too heavily guarded to break them out. So they'd decided to come up with a plan. Two months later, all of the guards had simply disappeared. Deciding this was a chance too good to pass up, S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent a team in to break them out.

It had required little to no breaking. The entire base had been deserted. They had no explanations at this time.

Asa didn't really care. She was safe, and Clint was safe, and now all she had to worry about was whether to go home or stay here and join the Avengers.

She sighed. Responsibility for the lives of some of the most important, dangerous people alive? This wasn't going to be an easy decision.

After the briefing, Agent Hill took her to her new quarters, then left her with directions to the cafeteria. A bit of exploring revealed a Spartan, if sleek, arrangement. The tiny bathroom was nothing more than a shower, toilet, sink and mirror, with a single cupboard containing a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a box of tampons. She closed the cupboard hurriedly. The shower was no better, with nothing more than shampoo, conditioner, and body wash- the dollar store kinds. Asa wondered idly who did the shopping for super-secret intelligences headquarters?

The room was small, and all of the furniture was part of the walls, including the bed, the desk with its transparent computer screen, and the closet. Asa couldn't bring herself to touch the drawers set into the wall next to the closet. The only freestanding object was the roll-y office chair, which she amused herself with for a while before inspecting the closet. It was small, but still looked empty. There were a few sets of scrubs in various shades of white and blue, a couple of sets of casual wear, a single black jacket, two pairs of sneakers- one white, one black- and a lab coat. This last Asa yanked off the hanger and shoved her arms through. In her opinion, there was nothing in this world more delightful than a good lab coat, and this one was excellent. It hung close to her body in the most flattering way and had an over-abundance of pockets. There was even little ID card clipped on the breast pocket, with her picture and name.

After she was sure she'd found everything in the room except pajamas and underthings, which she was quite sure would be in the drawers. So she just crawled into bed, and when she couldn't reach the light switch, she fell asleep with the lights on.

Over the next week, Asa gradually reset her internal clock. She slept at least ten hours every night, and ate copious amounts of surprisingly good food in the cafeteria. Dr. Jones was kind enough to let her make rounds with him, and she gained a solid respect for him, both as a talented physician, and a remarkable man. It felt good to be working again, and she loved wearing the lab coat. Dr. Jones had a way with the agents, who tended to be surly and refuse pain medication, which Asa did her best to emulate. She learned more about wound & trauma care than she had working in the E.R.

She thought about dancing, but told herself she was still recovering and shouldn't push it.

She visited Clint every day, and always checked his chart and his vitals in spite of her confidence in Dr. Jones's abilities. Sometimes, they sat together in silence, and sometimes they talked, usually about silly trivial things. When anything came up that reminded Asa of Liretto, like the sliding doors or dull suture needles or dancing, Clint would watch her silently, until she reluctantly opened up and talked it through. It felt like pulling out a splinter, except on a much larger, more painful scale. She was grateful for his unspoken kindness, and was anxious to return it. But Clint seemed to have no need to discuss anything, and he finally told her that he'd done this before, would likely do it again, and he was fine. It took her awhile to finally realize that mostly, he was telling the truth. He hadn't broken under the pressure, and so the abuse hadn't scarred him the way it had her. She wondered what his life had been like, that this would really bother him so little. It made her heart hurt.

The more time they spent together, the more her heart hurt. She knew that one of a doctor's greatest tools could be their compassion, but she also knew how important it was to not become attached. It wasn't until they'd been there a full week before she realized that she _was_ attached, and there was no use fighting it. They had been through hell together, and she loved him.

He was sitting propped up in his bed, his good hand behind his head, when she realized this. The feeling was so unexpected and so strong that she froze in panic. She loved him. The thought of anything happening to him made her stomach twist. She shifted slightly, and his eyes flicked to her. He opened his mouth to say something, but before she could chicken out, she leaned forward and kissed him.

* * *

_Haha! So... what do you think is going to happen? ;)_

_I didn't make up the stuff about Clint's enhancements; I did research! Apparently, in some versions of his reality, he's had modifications in the muscles around his eyes, etc. It wasn't that much of a stretch to think that he would have modified hands._

_Also, I know some of you wanted more general painfulness happening, and I want you to know that I'm not ignoring you! But there is a reason that it's not there. Asa's a doctor, and a very good one. Her detachment is second nature to her, so from her point of view, there could be no real emotional impact from the damage that Liretto did to Clint. So that's why that section got skimmed a little._


	10. Chapter 10

She knew immediately that it was a bad idea. Even beyond the fact that he was not kissing her back, it just felt weird. Wrong. Unfortunately, it took a second for her body to catch up to her brain, and when she finally pulled away, all she could do was return his shocked stare. Then it started to sink in.

"Oh… my… I am so sorry! I cannot even… omigodomigod!" Before she could do anything else embarrassing, she jumped off the bed and dashed for the door. Clint, however, caught her wrist before she'd taken two steps and pulled her back. She couldn't break free, but she didn't have to look at him either, so she just stood with her arm behind her back, blushing furiously.

"Asa, stop it. You don't need to be embarrassed."

She shook her head vigorously.

"Oh, yes I do. That was unbelievably awkward."

He chuckled, and more blood rushed to her cheeks.

"Well, yeah. But I am unbelievably attractive, and you are under a little stress. Come sit." She considered making a break for it, but he was strong, so she came and sat, still refusing to look at him. There was a long silence, which got more and more awkward until she finally started giggling hysterically. His low chuckle turned into a real laugh, and when they ran out of air, it was a little less awkward.

"Did you know that I had a brother?"

She glanced at him, surprised, and shook her head. He leaned back his head with a sigh and closed his eyes.

"Barney. We ran away and joined the circus together."

At first, he was hesitant, searching for the right words and forcing them out. The more he talked, though, the easier it seemed to get, so Asa just kept quiet and listened.

"It was just the two of us. Even when we were little, we did everything together. But then it was just us, and the orphanage wanted to separate us. Plus, the food was crap. So we ran away. We ran away from a lot of orphanages, actually, until we found the circus. That was where I learned to shoot." He was quiet for a long time, and Asa chanced a question.

"What happened?"

"He died. It was my fault." She started to shake her head, but he cut her off.

"No, Asa. It was. I was his older brother, and I was supposed to protect him. Instead…" he trailed off, then picked up again. "When you left, that last time, to get the stuff? I didn't think you were going to make it. I was supposed to protect you, and it was going to be my fault all over again." He looked her square in the eyes, and she could see him asking her if she understood. She chewed her lip thoughtfully.

She didn't remember her mother or older sister. The only real frame of reference she had for love was her dad, and her friends. She wasn't sure what it would be like to have a family, relations. A brother, maybe. She was positive she loved him, but kissing him had been… off. Was that what having a family was like?

Slowly, she nodded.

"So, does this mean that you'll beat up any boys that mess with me?"

He grinned, and she could see his relief.

"Absolutely."

She cocked her head thoughtfully.

"And teach me how to drive stick-shift?"

"Sure."

"And put me in headlocks."

He just smiled evilly, and she threw a pillow at his face.

"Jerk."

She left feeling much better about life, and wondering if maybe she couldn't take this job after all.

She was fiddling around with her new computer when the door opened behind her, and she jumped, nearly knocking over the chair.

Natasha Romanoff stood in the doorway, arms folded and with the most threateningly neutral expression Asa had ever seen. She wasted no time on pleasantries.

"You kissed Agent Barton."

Startled, Asa nodded.

"Don't let it happen again."

In spite of the very real danger literally on her doorstep, Asa pulled a face.

"Seriously, no worries. Done."

Natasha relaxed almost imperceptibly, and nodded curtly. "All right then." She turned to go, then stopped. She looked back over her shoulder at the floor near Asa's feet. "And thank you. For keeping him alive."

Asa stared after her in shock for a few seconds, then shrugged. She was alive. She went back to fiddling around on the computer.

Asa sat on the foot of the bed, contraband ice cream in one hand. She gesticulated with her spoon as she talked, and occasionally paused mid-sentence for a bite. Clint seemed too absorbed in his chocolate-y mess to offer much comment.

"So she just showed up in my room! Seriously! I thought she was gonna kill me." Clint rolled his eyes. "No, really. Hate to say it, but your girlfriend hates me."

Clint swallowed, then shook his head.

"Two things. One, Natasha's not my girlfriend. Two, are you alive?"

Asa gave him her best 'are-you-sure-you-don't-have-a-concussion?' look, but he just kept going.

"Have you been attacked in any way or found blue hair dye in your shower head?"

The look this time was more along the lines of 'are-you-sure-you're-not-INSANE?'

"No…."

Clint shrugged. "Then she likes you."

It was Asa's turn to roll her eyes. She took a massive spoonful of ice cream and stuck it in her mouth. "Whahever. Your gifriend's crazy."

And that was why, when Fury walked in a few minutes later, they both had ice cream smeared on their faces. He stared them both down, and Asa tried very hard not to giggle. Clint just went back to eating.

"I am going to pretend that I did not just see one of my top agents get in a food fight with a doctor."

Asa snorted, then clapped her hands to her mouth.

"Can he walk?" Fury jerked his chin in Clint's direction. Asa slid off the bed.

"Yes sir, as long as he doesn't push it, and," she turned to glare at Clint, "no fighting under _any_ circumstances. Understand?"

He ignored her.

"Well, then, I want you both to come with me."

* * *

_I know, I know; some of you hate me now. But this is what the relationship needed to be, so that's how I wrote it. I've got some fun stuff planned for the two of them, so hang in there. And don't worry; Asa doesn't end up alone. ;)_

_Are you ready? Here come the rest of the Avengers!_


	11. Chapter 11

_I have a confession. I have committed one of the writer's deadly sins: I failed to do my research. Turns out that the whole "humans-only-use-10%-of-the-brain" thing is an urban myth. Thankfully, someone called me on it. I've made some quick corrections to the appropriate chapter, though nothing of any importance. _

_On that note, please pardon any other medical mistakes in this or succeeding chapters, and enjoy!_

* * *

They took a quinjet and a cab. If Asa had paid a little more attention, she might've been able to ascertain the location of the headquarters by paying attention to how long it took them to get there, but she decided that it wasn't worth it. The point was that they took a private jet and a taxi and ended up at Stark Tower.

It took Asa a second to recognize it. But once she remembered that she'd seen it on T.V., it wasn't too hard to figure out. Fury didn't even wait until the cab had come to a stop before he was out and to the doors. Clint followed suit, and Asa had to scramble to keep up. Before she knew it, they were in an elevator. Asa wished there were stairs, but the ride turned out to be completely imperceptible, and unbelievably fast.

The elevator let them out into a massive, beautifully proportioned room, which at this moment was doubling as a verbal battlefield. They arrived just in time to hear someone say, "Just tell him to knock, ok?"

"Knock knock," was Fury's concession to that statement. A man that Asa recognized as the infamous Tony Stark turned to protest.

"That doesn't… Count."

Fury ignored him, and for once, lived up to his name.

"What the hell happened out there?"

Asa could only assume that there had been some kind of fight, judging by the state that several people were in. Her triage training kicked in and she assessed everyone quickly. The professional-looking redhead who was fussing over Stark she dismissed immediately. She noted Stark's black eye, but he seemed to have no trouble telling Fury that he needed to learn to knock, so he would hold for now. The couple in the corner, a man with kind dark eyes and a pretty blonde that looked no older than Asa, both showed signs of exhaustion, but had no apparent injuries. The blonde was protesting to Fury that it was all her fault. Asa hadn't really been paying attention to the conversation, so when everyone suddenly started protesting that no one was leaving, and something about a wedding, she took a hasty step back.

There great deal of shouting and Fury pointing at people, during which Asa tried to continue her assessments. She finally threw her hands up and decided to wait until things calmed slightly, as no one would stand still long enough to be assessed. Fury shifted his attention to a guy maybe a couple of years younger than Asa, sprawled out over a chair in the center of the room.

"You."

Asa had to give the guy credit; he didn't flinch or jump or even look remotely bothered. He was skinny and long-limbed, with a shock of dark hair that stuck out from his head in every direction and made Asa itch to comb it back into place. He was by far in the worst shape of the bunch, but his gaze was clear and he was sitting down. Since Asa was more than a little wary to step between Fury and his chosen scapegoat, she decided to sit tight for the moment..

"Me?" He said it so innocently that it took Asa a second to realize that he was being a smart alec. She almost grinned. Fury did not.

"Yes, you. You caused all this havoc?"

He held up his hands defensively. "Hey, she started it!" He jerked his chin toward the blonde, who looked so sweet that Asa had to tell her self sternly not to be jealous.

The last person in the room, whom Asa had almost missed because Fury was standing right between them, chimed in. He stood with perfect posture and somehow put Asa in mind of farmers and soldiers simultaneously. Thankfully, he looked pretty good, just some minor bruising and scrapes.

"She called him a bug. And he went off his rocker."

"I- I am here, you know. You can talk to me instead of about me." He said it so reasonably that Asa wasn't sure whether she wanted to smack him or hug him. Then he kept talking and she started to favor smacking. "And what does 'off his rocker' mean anyways? How old _are_ you?"

The farmer/soldier stiffened, and Asa sensed a fight brewing.

"Son-" Yep. This was going to come to fists, and the guy in the chair at least was in no condition to be throwing out any punches. She tsked impatiently, and paced briskly to the center of the room, effectively stepping between them.

"Okay, boys, settle down." Nothing diverted grown men like being treated like children. "You-" she pointed to the farmer/soldier, "stay where you are." The beat-up one had stood when the other guy had stepped forward, and she scowled at him fiercely. "You sit down and let me see your leg." Surprised, he collapsed back into the chair.

She knelt next to him and tried to roll up the leg of his jeans, but he hissed in pain. So she pulled a pair of special scissors from the medkit she'd grabbed on the way out and started cutting it off.

"Moves fast, that one." Asa didn't spare Tony a glance, afraid that if she acknowledged him she'd blush. Most of her patients were not as attractive as this one.

"What happened?" It was a standard question, and she kept her eyes on his swollen knee as he answered.

"There, uh- there was a, um, a… There was a wall. I swear it hit me first."

She snorted in laughter.

"Well, that's what you get for calling names." She glanced up with a smile to soften the sternness of her voice and met deep-set hazel eyes. His grin was lopsided, and she forgot what she was doing for a second.

"I'll have to remember that."

"Do." It took all of her training to keep from getting flustered. She returned to the injury, pressing her fingers at various points on his knee. "Does that hurt?" He shrugged and shook his head, an extremely enthusiastic motion that resembled a figure eight. "And that? No? Good. Now, if you could just rotate your ankle for me?" Tony choked on something that he was drinking. Asa spared him a glare, then returned her attention to what she was doing. She placed her hands on his lower leg as he moved the foot, checking the flex of muscles and ligaments under the skin. "Now the other way. Great. Now, can you straighten your leg?" She shifted her hands slightly, and when he moved the leg, she nodded.

"Okay." She pulled out an ice pack, broke it, and held it to the worst of the swelling. "Hold that there. Now, the good news is that I don't think you've torn any ligaments." He nodded, and she wasn't sure if he actually understood or if he was just agreeing. "You've got some serious bruising, though, possibly down to the bone so you're going to need to stay off of that foot for a while. I'm also going to want to look at this again tomorrow, once the swelling's gone down a little, just to be sure. There's so much extra fluid right now that it's possible that I'm missing something." He made a face, and she raised her eyebrows. "Unless you'd like to come in for some scans?" He shook his head again, and it struck her just how adorable he was. She cleared her throat.

"I thought not. Keep that there, and I'll patch some of this up." She gestured toward the lacerations up his leg, arm and face. It was quick work, and they didn't speak at all while she did it. He was kind of a wuss, flinching away from the disinfectant and visibly paling when she pulled out a needle.

"You need stitches if this is going to heal. Don't be a pansy. I'll even numb it," she offered. He pulled a face.

"Nah. Just do it." She shrugged and put in the stitches. She had to hold his face still while she did it.

"So, uh, do you have a name or something?"

"Stop talking. Dr. Asalynn Liretto." She paused, head cocked, and half-smiled. "I love the Dr. part. It's new." He laughed, and she shoved him lightly. "Hold still, I said! Everyone calls me Asa, though. You?" She tied off the last stitch, and immediately had to smack his hand away.

He blinked at her in confusion.

"A name? Do you have one?" she clarified.

"Oh! Yeah! A name. Uh, yeah. Um… Parker. Peter, I mean. Well, both, actually, Peter and Parker. Peter Parker." It took him a great deal of effort to get that sentence out, and she had to bite back her giggles again. "Wow, that's um… embarrassing. Can we just… forget that I just forgot my own name?"

She bit her lip, and smiled. "Sure. But then I'll need to find out your name again."

"That's okay, I think I've got it this time. Peter Parker, pleased to meet you, Asa."

Just then, Asa heard someone talking about her.

"That is Asalynn Liretto. She's going to be this team's doctor from now on. If you all keep playing rough, we'll have to keep you in tiptop shape. And I'm instating her here at Stark Tower." It was Fury, of course.

"Wait, what?" Asa tried to protest, but the conversation moved on without her. So she just sighed and gave Peter a quick wave before she started moving around the room, patching and icing. The only one who really needed any kind of attention other than Peter was the big blonde who reminded Asa of a farmer. He introduced himself politely as Captain Steve Rogers, and Asa finally recognized as him as Captain America. She worked quickly, glad for his natural regenerative abilities; a gash that would've need ten stitches five minutes ago was now healing nicely and required nothing more than a strip of gauze.

Fury kept giving orders. "Since half of you are living here anyways, I'm declaring this the official headquarters for the Avengers."

"But you can't do that. See, this is my house-" Tony's protests were almost funny in their lack of efficiency.

"Tower."

Tony blinked, but just kept on talking. "-Whatever. And you can't just say what this place is."

Fury kept totally deadpan.

"It's headquarters."

"No-"

Fury was obviously sick of the pandering, because he pulled out a trump card.

"I thought you would want to be in control of this. What better way than to own headquarters?" Asa nearly whistled in admiration. It was probably the only argument that would have possibly worked on Tony, and he was caught off guard.

"Y-yeah- but- I mean and-" he stuttered. The redhead, whom Asa guessed was his girlfriend and personal assistant, Pepper Potts, pounced on the moment.

"We would love to have you all come and stay here."

From the second that Pepper became Tony's opponent, the battle was lost.

"What?"

"Whenever you need a home you are all free to stay." Asa wondered whom that invitation included, and about Fury's statement that she herself would be living in the tower.

"But it's not your tower."

"It's 12% my tower." This was obviously an old argument.

"You've got to be-"

"You can live in my 12%."

Natasha chimed in helpfully. "And when you get married, won't it be a 100%?"

Asa made a small "huh" of surprise. She didn't know that they were getting married.

"It's true. We are sharing all assets. So we are going to be perfectly equal." This was obviously another old argument, and Asa was impressed with how quickly Pepper had turned the conversation around. Suddenly, Tony looked like he'd been struck with the most brilliant idea ever.

"We are? Oh, that's right. We are. So, welcome to headquarters, everyone."

Fury didn't even spare Pepper a grateful glance. "Now that that's settled, Romanoff, Barton, you will be this team's handlers."

Tony, of course, had something to say about that. "Handlers?"

The dark-eyed man in the corner smiled lazily. "This should be interesting."

Asa shook her head and moved on Tony. He managed to ignore her and swat her away simultaneously, so she shrugged and moved on.

The blonde girl half-grinned. "Yeah. Yeah it should." She blinked tiredly a few times, and Asa watched her in concern, and she wasn't the only one. The dark-eyed man turned to face her better.

"Stephanie, are you alright?" She definitely looked woozy now. Asa was there in two heartbeats, and she had to smack the man's hands away so that she could feel Stephanie's forehead.

"Come on, Stephanie-"

He felt for her wrist at the same time Asa did, and she had to pull the hand away, as gently as possible.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I can't."

"Don't worry about it. Stephanie? You have to stay conscious until we can get you to bed." Asa almost opened her mouth to contradict him, but changed her mind. Stephanie was in no immediate danger: low-grade fever and slightly elevated pulse, but Asa suspected that her main problem was exhaustion. If Stephanie passed out, she could be carried to bed and more or less allowed to sleep it off. She was glad of this prognosis when Stephanie smiled sweetly, said "Alright," and promptly passed out.

* * *

_So? Thoughts? Not a huge cliffhanger, I know, but the next chapter will be up quick as I can manage.  
_

_And if anyone would like to know what's been going on, you can check out TeddysTwin's story, Hope Rising. You'll love it, I promise!  
_


	12. Chapter 12

_Alright, folks, we're back! Or rather, I'm back, as I have taken a very long hiatus and I am very sorry. But! Lots of funness this chapter!_

* * *

There was mass chaos. Stephanie had fainted very quietly and efficiently into the dark-eyed man, but it seemed that the moment she did it, everyone wanted to help. Asa had her hands full just deflecting people until she could figure out where they were going to take her. Stephanie needed a bed, as soon as possible. Asa tried to speak over the hubbub, but no one could hear her, and she'd never found yelling to be particularly effective. Fortunately, at that moment, the elevator doors slid open again, and two new people walked in.

"What is happening?" Asa recognized the golden-haired giant as Thor, though she wondered if he was really the god of thunder. His voice was loud and resonant, and everyone paused for a second. It was all Asa needed. She took a step into the center of the room and put on her best stern professional voice.

"Everyone calm down. Stephanie is going to be fine, but she needs _rest._" Tony opened his mouth; Asa wasn't in the mood to let him talk. "There will be consequences for the next person to speak louder than a whisper." She glared around the room, daring any of them to speak, then nodded decisively. "Miss Potts, is there a bed somewhere that Stephanie could stay in?"

Pepper smiled warmly, just a bit relieved at the sudden calm. Fury just watched Asa approvingly, then after a quick word with Tasha, left.

"Of course. She has a room upstairs. Bruce, do you mind?"

The dark-eyed man, Bruce, smiled.

"Of course not." He shifted his grip and picked her up.

"Thank you. I'll be by in a moment to check on her. For now, just get her lying down and on the off chance she wakes up, make sure she drinks plenty of water." Bruce nodded and carried his charge to the elevator, which opened as he approached.

With one of her patients taken care of, Asa finally turned her attention back to Peter. He hadn't fainted, but he definitely didn't look good.

"Right, you next, Mr. Parker. Miss Potts-"

"Pepper, please."

"Pepper, I think Peter could use some sleep. Is there somewhere…"

Pepper nodded. "Of course. There's a suite next to Bruce's-"

"Nuh-uh." Tony approached, wagging one finger. "That is Rhodey's apartment and you know it."

Pepper tsked and tilted her head. "Tony, Rhodey is hardly ever here-"

"If he's going to stay- which I haven't agreed to yet, by the way- there's an entire floor with no one living on it yet. No need to impose his company on anyone. This is still my house, woman."

Pepper smiled calmly. "Alright. There's three sets of rooms below that, Mr. Parker. You can take your pick."

"Thank you very much, you've been very generous." Asa was almost surprised by his sincere courtesy, so at odds with the attitude he'd sported so far. Pepper turned to Natasha. "Are you two staying?"

Natasha looked Clint over once, then glanced at Asa. Asa nodded. Clint was still recovering, too. Natasha nodded.

"Great. Could you show Mr. Parker to a room on your way?" Natasha nodded again, then put a hand on Clint's shoulder as they turned away. Peter stood, and promptly collapsed back into the chair. Asa rolled her eyes and went to him.

"You're supposed to stay off that leg, remember?"

He crinkled his nose.

"Here, son, I'll give you a hand," Steve offered. Peter smiled ruefully.

"Thanks." Thankfully, Peter was tall enough to lean on Steve without actually having to be carried, and they limped away together.

"Oh, that's precious. Okay, now, can we talk about how you just invited someone I was fighting an hour ago to live in my house?"

Pepper smiled sweetly.

"What have I told you about beating up guests? Dr. Liretto-"

Asa swallowed hard.

"Asa, please."

"Asa, there's an apartment next to Clint and Tasha. Should I send someone somewhere for your things?"

Asa shook her head, bewildered.

"Um, no, I mean, I don't want to impose…"

"Nonsense. We've plenty of room, and if I were you, I'd want to get away from Fury. Unless you already have somewhere else to stay?"

Asa had never been to Manhattan in her life.

"No, I don't. Thank you. There are a few things at my room at S.H.I.E.L.D., some scrubs, a toothbrush, you know."

Pepper smiled again. "Alright, then, no worries. We're a," she looked pointedly at Tony and quoted, "'beacon of hope in the form of self-sustaining energy.' I think we can manage some clothes and a toothbrush."

Tony grumbled and walked to the bar to pour himself a drink. Pepper glanced over her shoulder.

"I think it's Tony's bedtime. JARVIS can help you to your room."

Asa stared in blank confusion.

"Oh, right, of course. JARVIS?"

A new voice, a light tenor with a soft British accent, answered.

"Yes, Miss Potts?"

Asa looked around the room, but it was empty.

"This is Dr. Asalynn Liretto. Could you direct her to her room, please?"

"Of course, Miss Potts."

"JARVIS runs all of Tony's buildings; it stands for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System." Asa bit back a laugh. Pepper rolled her eyes. "It was one of Tony's earlier attempts at a sense of humor. JARVIS can help you with anything you need."

"Thank you so much, Pepper. Really, you're incredible."

Pepper smiled, a warm smile that lit up her eyes.

"Well, thank _you._ And you're very welcome."

With JARVIS's help, Asa found her way to Stephanie's room, where she was sleeping soundly. Bruce was nodding off in a chair he'd pulled up next to the bed.

"She'll probably sleep for at least eight hours. You could go get some rest," Asa pointed out.

He shook his head. "It's alright. I'd rather be here when she wakes up."

Asa smiled fondly; she loved it when her patients had people who worried about them.

"Alright, then. Remember, water when she wakes up, and food if she feels up for it. Try to keep her resting, though."

He nodded without looking away from Stephanie.

"Of course. Thank you, Doctor."

Asa shut the door very quietly behind her.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Dr. Liretto?"

"Um, just Asa, please. Could you let me know when Stephanie wakes up?"

There was a brief pause. "Of course… Asa."

Asa cocked her head. Could an artificial intelligence sound uncomfortable?

"Is everything alright, JARVIS?"

"Of course… Asa." Again, that hesitation. Then it clicked. If JARVIS was as properly British as he sounded, calling a total stranger by a nickname would be odd.

"Oh! I'm sorry, JARVIS, it's just… I try not to use my last name, and Dr. Asa sounds weird. Would it help if you called me miss?"

She could see him nodding in her mind's eye.

"Thank you, Miss Asa. That is not necessary, but your consideration is appreciated."

"Great. Now, which way to Peter's room?"

Peter proved to be just as asleep as Stephanie, so after asking JARVIS to let her know when _he_ woke up, too, she followed the directions to her own room. By the time she got there, she was so tired that she didn't even remember shutting the door behind her.

It took her a very long time to wake up. No sooner did she realize how comfortable and safe she felt than the now-familiar fear started knotting in her stomach. She rolled over onto her side with a groan and wrapped her arms around her middle. Everything about the bed was soft and silky and fluffy, and for the first time in the past months, she didn't remember her nightmares; but she was fairly certain they involved automatic doors, suture needles, and her own evil twin. She felt sick. She made herself sit up. She didn't actually remember the nightmares, though. That had to be a step in the right direction.

"Good morning, Miss Asa. It is eight a.m., and neither Miss Stephanie or Mr. Parker is awake yet. Do you require anything?"

Oh, right. JARVIS. Stark Tower. Avengers. Work. Peter Parker. She grinned.

"Um, no. Wait, yes. Bathroom? And coffee?"

"There is a bathroom down the stairs and to your right. I believe that Captain Rogers usually makes coffee in the common room upstairs first thing in the morning."

Asa stretched awkwardly and made funny dinosaur-sounding noises.

"Thanks, JARVIS. You're the best." She pushed back the ivory sheets and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. For a long moment, she just sat there, looking around.

She was in a loft. The bed and dresser, both tastefully constructed from dark wood, took up most of the space. A set of open-tread stairs led down into a living space. The wall opposite the bed was entirely windows, with gauzy curtains that Asa instantly loved. She told herself sternly that she was going to have a good day, without thinking about Liretto at all, and got up. She padded down the stairs, glad that they had a railing. The suite was open and airy, with no more furniture than a couch, chair, coffee table, and wall-mounted TV. Tucked under the loft was a small kitchen. It was delightfully cozy, with a real refrigerator and oven, and when Asa flipped the light switch next to the counter, it lit up in artistic shades of amber. She found the bathroom door without too much trouble, and whistled when she walked in. It wasn't large, but it was luxurious- a built-in tub and shower, plenty of shelf space, all in light tiles and woods that shouldn't have gone together but somehow did.

She toyed with the idea of a nice long bath, but decided she was too energetic for that. So after a quick shower, which actually made her feel slightly better, she wrapped a large fluffy towel around herself and set off to look for some clothes. She'd slept in her scrubs, and they were all sweaty and blood-spotted. She checked the dresser, but it was empty.

"Hey, JARVIS?"

"Yes, Miss Asa?"

"Are there some clothes around here somewhere that I could borrow?"

"Miss Potts is on her way here now with some things, and I am in the process of making arrangements to purchase a new wardrobe for you."

Asa's eyes widened. "Oh, no, you don't have to do that! Please don't do that!"

"My apologies, Miss Asa, but Miss Potts was most particular. You will have everything you need by the end of the day."

Asa considered arguing with him, but then remembered that she had no clothes, and decided against it.

"Thanks. Remind me to thank Pepper."

"You are very welcome, Miss Asa."

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Asa practically ran to it. It was Pepper.

"Oh, good, you're up." Asa stood to the side of the door and motioned for her to come in.

"Yeah, look, thanks again. This place is really great. And JARVIS told me about the clothes. You really don't have to do that."

Pepper held out a pile. "I'm not. Stark Industries is. It's really no problem; if anyone's going to have to live here and put up with Tony, the least we can do is make sure that they're comfortable. Here, these are mine, but I think they'll fit for now."

Asa took the clothes- jeans, and a pretty blouse.

"Steve is making breakfast upstairs, if you'd care to join us. We'll wait till everyone is up and about before we make any decisions."

"I will, thanks."

"Great, I'll just let you get changed then."

Once Pepper left, Asa went to the bathroom to change. She felt weird changing in the airy openness of the living room. The clothes fit tolerably well, though the jeans had to be rolled up several times. She rather liked the blouse, which was purple and light and draped nicely. She was almost out the door before she remembered that she had to do her hair. Cursing its length, she went back to the bathroom, found a brush and a clip, and clipped it up on the back of her head. She didn't have any makeup, but there was nothing for it. One last inspection in the full-length mirror on one wall and she was out the door.

Her room was right next to the elevator, and if she remembered correctly, Tasha and Clint were the two doors just down the hall. Although, it was less a hall and more of a large, oval-y looking room that happened to have no furniture. The floor above her housed Stephanie, Steve, and she thought Thor. It was all so confusing. But both Steve and a kitchen were definitely up one floor, so that's where she went.

The layout of this floor was nothing like hers. The entire floor was split into two levels, with the elevator opening on the top of the loft area. A curved balcony straight ahead led to the three rooms, which she had noticed last night were just bedrooms, rather than the apartment-style room she was staying in. She tripped her way down another set of open-tread stairs, then turned back to look at the room under the loft. No floor, being split horizontally in two, should look that big. There was a large kitchen off to one side, then a den sunk into the corner behind the stairs, featuring the largest TV she'd ever seen in her life. There was no table in the kitchen, but there was an island with bar stools. There was also a large, intimidating table set in the open area opposite the loft. Steve, Pepper and Tony were all clustered around the island, though, so that's where Asa went.

It smelled wonderful.

Steve paused in his omelet-making to hand Asa a mug of coffee. She wrapped her hands around it and took a deep breath, then dug around in the fridge until she found some milk. Cream would've been better, but milk would do. And sugar. That was a little harder to find, but Steve seemed to know what she was looking for and opened a cupboard next to the fridge.

Tony and Pepper were bantering easily about flower arrangements, and Tony didn't even give her a hello, so she just hoisted herself onto the counter, drank her coffee, and watched. After a few minutes, Thor crashed down the stairs.

He greeted Asa enthusiastically.

"You are the physician!"

She grinned. "Yeah, that's me. Asa." She held out her hand, and Thor shook it. She had to pull it back, and spent the next few minutes trying to massage some life back into it.

"And I am Thor, son of Odin."

"Pleased to meet you, Thor."

"You allergic to anything, doll?" Steve spoke over his shoulder. Asa shrugged.

"Nah, I'm good. Unless you're putting bee venom in the omelet. In which case, we all have bigger problems." Pepper paused mid-sentence to chuckle, and Thor laughed out loud. Asa grinned. She liked having people around, even if it did make her feel a little irrationally guilty. If she was a little damaged, well, so were they.

"No bee venom, just spinach and onion and maybe some pepper."

"Mm, sounds good."

"Thor, the Pop-tarts are in the cupboard next to the oven."

Thor, who had been ransacking every _other _cupboard, brightened.

"Ah, thank you, my friend." Thor proceeded to eat an entire box of Pop-tarts while Jane and Asa watched in amusement. Just as Steve was finishing the first batch of omelets, JARVIS interrupted.

"Miss Asa, Miss Stephanie has an elevated pulse and her breathing is becoming more shallow. I believe that she is-"

"Waking up. Right, I'm on it. Thanks, JARVIS."

Asa hopped down from the counter and up the stairs to Stephanie's room. She knocked lightly, but didn't wait for an answer before she walked in.

Stephanie was indeed awake, still bleary-eyed. Bruce had fallen asleep in the chair, one hand laid over Stephanie's. Stephanie looked at in confusion, then up at Asa.

"Oh!" She pulled out her hand hurriedly, and Bruce woke with a start.

"Morning, you two." Asa crossed to the side of the bed, opposite Bruce. "And how do you feel this morning, Stephanie?"

She sat up a little straighter in her bed.

"Better, thanks. I think I was just tired, you know, after everything." She looked down at her hands. Bruce stuck his glasses on and ran a hand through his hair.

"It probably has something to do with the healing. We should look into that. Probably has something to do…" he trailed off. Asa cocked an eyebrow.

"Healing? Was she injured?"

"Well, yeah, I hurt my leg, and I maybe hit my head, too."

Asa pursed her lips. "She was hurt, and nobody told me?" Bruce opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Asa realized how ridiculous that sounded. If Stephanie had been injured, she should've noticed. Bruce shrugged sheepishly.

"The Other Guy healed her. He… has that effect. Just on Stephanie, though."

"The Other Guy?"

Bruce cleared his throat, tried to say something and failed. Stephanie spoke up.

"Do you remember a while ago, when that thing in Manhattan was all over T.V., with the Avengers?"

Asa nodded warily.

"Remember the big green one?"

"Oh, yeah! Wait, really?"

Bruce nodded. "It was a combination of genetic mutation and gamma radiation. I'm not exactly the… safest person to be around when I'm upset."

"Huh." Asa considered that for a moment. She failed to see how gamma radiation could turn a human being into the Hulk; she'd be interested to see what his DNA looked like. She shrugged. "Okay, so you're the Incredible Hulk. What does that have to do with Stephanie?"

He cleared his throat again. "Stephanie seems to have a remarkable effect on me." He smiled wryly. "And the Other Guy. She can control him, communicate with him. We're not sure why yet; we're working on it. The flipside, though, is that direct contact with the Other Guy seems to have a healing effect."

Asa's brow furrowed. "But how does that work?"

Bruce shrugged. "Again, we're not sure. My guess is, when we know how her power works, we'll be able to figure it out. For every action, kind of thing."

That made sense, in a balanced kind of a way. She affected him, he affected her.

"Well, I want to be kept updated. That's the kind of thing I need to know. Well, Stephanie, as far as I can tell, you're fine. Do you think you can eat?"

Stephanie smiled. "Absolutely."

"Great. Steve's making omelets. Shall we?"

* * *

_So? Thoughts? Feelings? As always, leave me a note! You guys are the best readers in the whole wide world, and I hereby grant you all a virtual cookie. Enjoy. _

_P.S. If anyone wants to see things like pictures of how I see Stark Tower in my head, let me know. I can put some up on Tumblr or DeviantArt or something. Just in case anyone is as design-curious as I am.  
_


	13. Chapter 13

_So, my lovely readers! First off, you guys are seriously fabulous. I keep all of your reviews and favorites and follows in a special folder in my email, and read them when I am having a bad writer day. Second, I did some serious brainstorming with Teddy'sTwin this weekend, and we've got some great stuff planned for you. Third, enjoy._

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Breakfast was a noisy and delicious affair. Everyone was there, except for Peter, scattered on barstools and the counter and the back of the couch in the den. Clint amused them all by throwing napkin paper airplanes at Thor when he wasn't looking. Steph sat with Steve and chatted about someone named Beth. Pepper scolded Tony for his black eye.

Asa cocked her head.

"Here, let me take a look at that."

He stared at her like she was insane and leaned away from her, but Pepper cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows. He glared, but held still while she inspected it.

"It doesn't actually look too bad. Do you have any black tea?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Black tea. Do you have any? Or better yet, tobacco leaves?"

Tony just stared at her. Pepper interjected.

"Here, there's some black tea in this cupboard." She poked into a cabinet, then pulled out a box of Lipton's.

"Great, thanks. Kettle, kettle…"

"Here."

"Thanks." Asa filled the kettle with water and set it to boil. She loved making tea, a leftover addiction from visiting friends in England.

"Ah, what are you doing? You know, with the tea?"

Asa wanted to stick her tongue out at Tony, but she refrained. Instead, she put on her professional voice again.

"Black tea is a wonderful home remedy for bruising." The kettle started whistling, and Asa dropped a few teabags into it. "There. We'll pull them out in a few minutes, and I'll have you hold them to your eye. Do it a couple of times a day, and you'll be all shiny for the wedding."

Tony opened his mouth as if to object, then couldn't think of anything. All that came out was a "Huh."

Tending Tony reminded Asa of her other patient. She scrunched her eyebrows thoughtfully.

"Hey, JARVIS?"

"Yes, Miss Asa?"

"Is Peter up yet?" It was almost nine, she hadn't expected him to sleep this long. Even Stephanie hadn't slept this long.

"No, he is not."

"That's right, that webhead is still in my tower." Pepper and Asa both paused to give Tony the same exasperated look. "Why did we bring him back in the first place?"

Clint spoke up from the back of the couch.

"He has intell on the jet pack criminal." Asa wondered how he knew that, then remembered that Natasha, at least, would be privy to all of that kind of information.

"Speaking of which, Stark, the guy woke up yesterday." Her calm couldn't be questioned, but she still somehow managed to sound like she was goading Tony. "They've determined he's coherent enough for questioning."

"Sweet. I know what I'm doing today." Tony was on his feet before Natasha shook her head.

"The police also said that there would be no interference from Stark in this case." Asa had serious doubts about the ability of the police to stop SHIELD from getting anything they wanted. Odds were, by the end of the day, Natasha would know just as much as the police did. More, probably. But she didn't seem in a mood to tell Tony that.

"Na- no interference from St- he attacked _my tower," _Tony blustered. Pepper was tapping away quickly at some kind of pad, splitting her attention between that and watching Tony warily. Damage control, no doubt.

"And you're not on the police force, thus not permitted to interrogate in this case."

Tony kept blustering, no one paid him any attention. "That's ridiculous! Aren't I allowed to choose how I want to press charges or whatever? And why wasn't I informed of this earlier?"

Natasha shrugged.

"You were fighting Parker."

"Not all day-"

Here Pepper spoke up, diverting him easily.

"You were recharging your batteries last night, remember?"

Tony paused for a second. "Right. Sleep." Another pause. "Weird."

Pepper looked at him thoughtfully. "I think that was actually the first time you slept a full eight hours. Ever."

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Waste of time."

Asa started gathering up dishes, and Clint helped by distracting Steve so that she could wash them herself. There was a brief scuffle when Steve realized what was going on, since he had strong feelings against anyone cleaning up but himself, but they finally compromised. He washed, Asa dried. He turned off the water and turned to face the room.

"I say we call a meeting to order."

If Asa expected them to all gather around the imposing conference table, she was disappointed. At best, Clint sat up a little straighter on the counter, and Pepper set her pad out in front of her, expectantly. Asa, with some difficulty, hoisted herself up to sit next to Clint.

"A meeting?" Tony said it like he'd never been to a meeting in his life, and he didn't intend to start now. Steve ignored it.

"We need to decide whether or not we trust Parker enough to include him in this investigation."

Stephanie spoke up from the other side of the island. "Aren't you guys going to make him a part of the Avengers?"

Tony, who'd been leaning against the fridge, straightened so fast he nearly fell over.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. A team member? Are you-"

"An excellent idea!" Thor interrupted. "He is a valiant figher!"

"We don't even know him," Natasha pointed out.

"He's a man of courage! He stood up to three of us without hesitation. I do not know many who would attempt such a feat. I approve of him." Thor glared around the room, defying anyone to disagree with his judgment. Pepper moved to say something calming, but Steve beat her too it. She blinked in surprise, then smiled gratefully.

"So I think we have Thor's vote."

Natasha, in the same reasonable voice, said, "Thor wouldn't have to deal with him. He doesn't even live on this planet." Asa wondered if she was really trying to work out the best course of action, or if it just amused her to watch the world burn. Steve shook his head.

"He's still a part of the team. We've got one vote for."

"For? For what? I don't think we've established what for is." It was arguments like this that made Tony look plain old petty, but Steve answered him with the same patience he'd displayed thus far.

"For Parker joining the team."

"This can't seriously be in question, can it?"

Steve turned to Tasha. "Agent Romanoff, what do you think of it?"

Tasha shrugged, arms folded under her chest. "I don't think we can trust him. He was the reason you all tore down half of New York. Again." Asa caught her surprise mirrored in Steph's face. How often did this particular group of people tear down half of New York?

Tony, of course, couldn't resist an opportunity to disagree. "I thought we established that was Angel Face's fault."

"Who is this Angel Face? I've heard them spoken of before." Asa was glad that Thor had decided to be that kid in class who asked the question everyone else was wondering. Before he got an answer, Tasha interrupted.

"Spiderman was the one who initiated the fight."

"Wait, what?" What on God's good Earth did Spiderman have to do with anything? As far as Asa knew, he'd disappeared a few years earlier, around the time that Tony became Ironman. "Why are we talking about Spiderman?"

"Didn't you read her in? Why has nobody explained this to her yet?"

Asa considered pointing out that he hadn't exactly explained it to her either, but she didn't want the conversation to get sidetracked away from her question. Stephanie took pity on her.

"Peter Parker is Spiderman."

"Oh." _Oh._ Peter Parker? As in, hazel eyes, long-limbed, couldn't-remember-his-own-name Peter Parker? "Good to know."

"Moving on. One for, one against. Agent Barton?"

"He's a straight shot." Tony started to make a disgusted face, but Clint wasn't finished. "But we don't know him well enough yet."

"So- I'm going to say you're on the fence?" Steve waited for Clint to nod before he moved on. "Dr. Banner?"

Bruce pulled off his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut. "He seems intelligent." The glasses went back on. "He was able to sneak around Stark Tower without immediate detection, and developed his own webbing." Bruce cocked his head, then corrected, "Per say."

"I'm counting that as a 'for'. Two for, one against-"

It was finally Tony's turn. "Two against!"

Steve nodded. "Two against, and one on the fence. Steph?"

Tony looked panicky, like his computer was dying and someone had stolen his charger. "Since when are we including the peanut gallery?"

"I think you know my vote," Steph offered.

"Three for, then. Dr. Liretto?"

Her? "Um, does my vote count?" She hadn't realized, when Stephanie was included, that she would be, too. But if she was going to be around for a while, and she got a vote… "Sure, yeah. I'm for it."

"Four for. Pepper?"

"Okay, hold up." Asa recognized Tony's last-ditch attempt to get his way. "We can't be serious."

"Why can we not?" Thor seemed genuinely confused, and Asa couldn't blame him. She was trying to figure out what made Tony so difficult, too.

"Because, in case you forgot, he basically destroyed lower Manhattan yesterday."

Bruce cleared his throat. "I think I should take the blame for that really."

Tony didn't even look at him. "None of your pity party right now. It was his fault and we all know it."

Pepper waited for Tony to pause for breath, then interrupted smoothly, "I like him."

"What?" This seemed to shock Tony more than anything else up to this point.

"He's polite, and he's sharp. You could use some manners on this team." Asa had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"That makes five votes for." And only two against. Tony was grasping at straws now.

"You've got to be kidding! This kid swings around like Tarzan for-"

"Before you totally blow your top , Stark, and since this all wasn't a unanimous agreement, I think we should put Parker on a probationary period." They all stopped to consider this. "That way we can get to know him before we trust our lives to him."

"I second that." Asa shot Clint a grateful glance.

"Alright." Tasha leaned back against the counter.

"It's an agreement, then." Thor seemed delighted.

"Wait, wait, wait."

Steve shook his head. "Stark, this is fair."

"How is this fair? He's a freaking teenager."

Asa thought that he looked rather older than a teenager, but held her tongue. Thankfully, Stephanie spoke for her.

"He's twenty-two."

"Explain to me again why you're defending him?"

Stephanie shrugged. "I just think he's a good kid."

Tony narrowed his eyes at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "Didn't he punch you in the face?"

Bruce looked up quickly. "Wha- what happened?" Asa was no less surprised, though she probably shouldn't have been. He just didn't seem the kind of guy to go around throwing punches.

Stephanie shook her head pleadingly. "He didn't mean to-"

"How he could he not mean to?" Asa had to admit that Tony had a point. How do you accidentally punch someone in the face? Pepper cut the argument off with slightly less than her usual tact.

"On a side note, I would like to invite you all to our wedding this weekend."

Tony jerked around. "What? You- to my wedding-"

"Our wedding." She leaned in closer to him, and added quietly. "It was the only way to get you to stop arguing."

"I would be delighted to come."

"Thank you, Thor."

"You're really inviting Goldilocks?" Tony was possibly the only person Asa knew who regularly went around abusing his guests. Goldilocks, seriously?

"And bring Jane. I'm sorry she couldn't stay yesterday."

"Thank you, Pepper. That is very kind of you."

"Excellent." She addressed the entire group. "Also, for the time being, could we try and avoid confrontation?"

"Confrontation?"

"No fighting, or investigating. Or at least, if you do, please don't include Tony. I would rather he be in one piece for the wedding photos."

"That's alright, Pepper." Bruce cut Tony off. "We've got a serum to work on."

"Oh, that's right."

JARVIS interrupted. "Miss Asa, Mr. Parker has-"

"I'm on my way." Asa was off like a shot. She didn't care for arguing at the best of times. She tripped up the stairs, then after a quick stop at her room to pick up her medkit, headed down to Peter's room.

Asa straightened her blouse subconsciously before she opened the door. The room was smaller than her own, more like Stephanie's. Peter was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed. He seemed to be trying to stand. She tsked, and was at his side in a second. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"What did I tell you?"

He grinned lopsidedly up at her.

"Honestly? I don't really remember."

She was caught between amusement and offense. She decided to go with amusement, at least for the moment.

"I told you that you needed to stay off of that leg. Sit back. I need to look at that."

He obediently scooted back on the bed and laid his leg out straight. She was glad of the loose plaid pajamas he wore, as they were easy to push back. She did so, and unwrapped bandage she'd used yesterday. The knee looked much better today. So much better, in fact, that she was forced to remember that he was a superhero. The swelling was almost completely gone, and the bruising had mostly faded to a lovely yellow-red.

"Bend that for me." He did so, and she was shortly satisfied that he hadn't sustained any serious injury. "Great. Does the bandage help?" The question caught him off guard, and he shrugged and 'um'ed. She bit the side of her lip to hide her smile.

"Guess not. We'll leave it off for today, then, shall we?" He grinned sheepishly. "Now, let's take a look at those stitches."

The cuts were healing well, too. In the normal course of things, she would've still left them in another day, based on the current healing rate, but… they _felt_ like they should come out. She chewed on her lower lip. Even with how fast the skin was closing, logic told her they shouldn't come out at least for another day.

"I'm going to clean these; they can come out tomorrow."

He blinked in surprise. "Seriously?"

She nodded, digging in her bag. "Seriously. You heal fast. Unbelievably fast," she said pointedly. He "huh"-ed noncommittally. She sighed; she felt like a secret super-hero identity was something that he should have the chance to admit to before she brought it up.

She packed up her bag briskly.

"You're all set. That knee might ache a bit. No running, jumping, climbing things, you know, the works." She trailed off, wondering if she'd been too obvious. He rolled his pajamas down and stood carefully, and she decided he hadn't noticed anything.

"Let me know." Just to make sure that macho pride didn't prevent him from actually saying anything, she continued, "Pain could be a sign that something else is wrong. If the tendons have been strained at all, we can use a little KT tape to help. Alright?"

Peter nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, okay."

She clicked her bag shut, and turned halfway to go, then hesitated. "Hey, you, uh… you never did tell me what happened yesterday."

He refused to meet her eyes and shrugged eloquently. "Got on the wrong side of the jolly green giant. He, uh, argues. Persuasively."

Asa snorted sarcastically. "Yeah. You got in a fight with him, I'm impressed that you're still alive." She watched him as subtly as possible. He shrugged again, then grinned up at her ruefully.

"Just lucky, I guess."

She swallowed down the nasty rising in her throat. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and closed the door gently on the way out.

That afternoon, Fury sent someone to collect her for a meeting. Clint offered to come with her, but one look at Natasha's impassive face, and Asa refused. Besides, Clint was still supposed to be resting. So another cab & jet ride later, she was sitting in what she could only assume was Fury's office.

"So you see what we're dealing with." Fury watched her over steepled fingers.

Asa shrugged noncommittally. "They're a handful, sure."

"But not more than you can handle."

Asa opened her mouth, then shut it and shook her head reluctantly. "No. Not more than I can handle. Really, you just have to know how to talk to them."

Fury raised his good eyebrow, and Asa bit her lip, then admitted, "And I guess it helps if you're tiny and pretty." She would've sworn he almost smiled.

"Hm. So you'll take the job."

Asa bit her lip again. "Actually, I have a few questions first."

"I'll see what I can do." He remained totally deadpan, but she decided to take it as an invitation.

"Well, for one thing, what about my dad? Does he even know I'm alive?"

Fury answered without hesitation. "That wouldn't be a good idea. We still don't know what Liretto wanted, or how you were involved." Asa clenched her jaw against the bile rising in her stomach, then glanced down at her sweaty hands and took a deep breath.

"I think he should at least know I'm alive. You know, before he sees me patching up the Avengers on TV or something."

She glanced up at Fury, who was staring at her without blinking. There was a long, tense moment, then Fury finally nodded.

"Very well. You understand that you can't see him, or talk to him."

Asa let out the breath she'd been holding. "Yeah, yeah I get it."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, um…" Asa closed her eyes and ticked off her fingers, trying to remember everything she'd wanted to ask. "You do realize I'm not actually a fully qualified doctor yet, right? I never got to finish my internship, never mind my residency. So technically, I shouldn't be anyone's doctor."

Fury nodded again. "I've discussed it with Dr. Jones. S.H.I.E.L.D. can smooth things over with your old residency, and you can finish up under his instruction at the hospital here. Attending to the Avengers should be plenty of experience for a residency, and we can provide the appropriate approvals and paperwork." Asa thought it over. She only had three months of internship left, and Fury was right; she'd get plenty of experience with this bunch, and she'd been considering going into emergency care anyway. She nodded.

"You will also require field training."

"Wait, what?" Asa sat up ramrod straight. She was pretty sure field training translated to fighting.

"You are part of the most volatile team that this agency has ever known. You're going to need to be able to protect yourself."

"I really don't know if that's a good idea."

"It's not negotiable. Agent Romanoff will begin your training tomorrow."

Asa hesitated, then scowled in acquiescence. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to be able to take care of herself.

"Fine. So…" she hesitated, feeling awkward about her next question, then finally spat out, "how does pay work? I mean, I can't even afford to live on my own right now, never mind health insurance and stuff."

Fury pulled a folder out of his desk and thumped it down in front of her. "It's all right here. Suffice it to say, S.H.I.E.l.D. takes care of its agents. And I need all of the forms at the back completed and returned to Natasha by tomorrow. We'll be in touch about a uniform."

"Oh." Asa stared at the folder. It was thick, one of the flat-bottomed kinds. But a uniform sounded kind of promising. As long as it didn't look like Natasha's. "Okay."

Fury stood up, and Asa jumped to her feet, tripping and catching herself on the desk. Fury ignored her wobble and held out his hand. She shook it timidly.

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D., Dr. Liretto."

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_So! What do you think? Leave me a review and let me know!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Oh, my lanta, guys. I am so sorry for the hiatus. Just, you know, you're going along writing stuff, and then school is all "NO! No free time for you!" So yeah. That's my excuse. A poor one, I grant you, but please accept it anyway, with my apologies, and this next chapter._

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At her own request, Asa picked up her first shift the next day. The whole wheels-then-wings routine was getting a little old, so she slept most of the way. Soon, she was tailing Johnson in her lab coat, glad to be on her feet again.

It didn't take her long to fall into an old familiar rhythm. It felt good, comforting- a piece of her old life that had nothing to do with Liretto. Not that her imprisonment was ever far from her mind, but at least here it was easier to push to the side. Asa caught herself smiling as she made her rounds. By the time she got back to Stark Tower late in the afternoon, all she wanted to do was take a nap.

She was about to hoist herself up the stairs to her bed when she remembered her other patients. She sighed. This whole "having-patients-who-lived-at-home" thing was going to be tricky. She made a mental note to let Natasha know that she was going to need some resources. She squared her shoulders and headed back out the door.

Asa made herself stop at Peter's room first. He wasn't there. She gritted her teeth, her previous good mood shot.

"JARVIS, where's our favorite delinquent arachnid?" she asked testily, then immediately regretted it. It wasn't JARVIS's fault that Peter wasn't in.

"Mr. Parker is currently on the roof."

"Huh. Is there an easy way for me to get up there?" She had a feeling that when JARVIS said roof, he didn't mean somewhere she could reach by elevator, and she was right.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Asa. Mr. Parker climbed out his window. I would suggest waiting here for him to return."

She pursed her lips. "Oh, believe me, I plan to."

Asa made herself at home. Peter's rooms weren't much bigger than Stephanie's upstairs. A bed and desk in one corner, a couch, chair and TV in another. A bar, of course, stretched along one wall. Everything was open, airy space and horizontal lines. A single door led to a bathroom. She wandered around aimlessly, then finally settled into the leather couch. When her hairclip began to press annoyingly into the back of her head, she took it out and clipped it to her lapel.

When her eyelids started to droop, she turned on the TV with a flick of her fingers and flipped through channels until she found some Buffy reruns. She watched them and until JARVIS informed her that Peter was on his way back, at which point, her relaxation vanished. She turned off the TV and positioned herself so that he wouldn't see her until his feet hit the floor.

He was impressively stealthy, and was almost all the way in the open window until Asa realized he was there. He landed lightly, and it took less than a second for him to notice her and drop into a defense crouch. It took another second for him to register who she was, by which time she was already standing with her hands on her hips and a dark scowl. He straightened sheepishly.

"So." She had more to say, but realized belatedly that she had no justification for being mad at him; it wasn't as if it was really her business that he was a superhero. They'd only known each other for a couple of days. So she switched tactics while he watched her warily. "Please repeat to me the instructions I gave you yesterday morning."

He blinked a few times and tried a grin. She kept her face smooth.

"Uh, no running, no jumping, no climbing?"

She nodded. "So your ears work, it's your brain that's got a problem."

He cocked his head and opened his mouth with some kind of argument, but she didn't give him time for it.

"No, shut up. I am a _doctor._ You wanna know why? Because I spent years and years in medical school, learning how the human body works, and how to fix it when it breaks. So when I tell you to take it easy, you'd better believe I know what I'm talking about."

"Well, strictly, technically speaking, I'm not exactly-"

"Normal? Yeah, I get it. Believe it or not, I guessed as much. Anyone else who came out of the fight you did would be bedridden in the hospital, so yeah, you're special. That doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. Next time, you will do as I tell you. Is that clear?" She realized, a little belatedly, that she was almost yelling, standing with her fists clenched, breathing heavily. She bit her lip, wishing she could take it back. She hadn't lashed out like that in… she couldn't even remember how long. It felt good, but she knew better. She was a better person than this. Or she had been, at one point.

They stood facing each other, and the air felt dark and thick on her skin. Peter had tensed, his center of gravity had lowered until he was ready for a fight. Asa forced herself to take a deep breath.

"Sit down. I need to take out the stitches."

For a second, she thought he was going to refuse, but then he turned around and stalked to the couch, where he flopped himself down. She took another deep breath, clenched and released her fists once, then followed.

A quick glance showed her that she had a problem. The skin had healed much faster than she had expected, and now the stitches were partly covered with new pinkness. She clenched her jaw.

"Well, it looks like your healing rate is nearly exponential. I'll need to do some tests later; get your vitals, plot some data, that kind of thing. In the meantime, this might hurt." She didn't want to admit that she'd misjudged, that she should've taken them out yesterday. It didn't look like they were infected, though, so she could still just snip them and take them out. It was just going to pinch more than it should have.

That's exactly what she did, and he grimaced the entire time. She pulled the last one out, and put a quick bandage over the cut.

"There you go. You should be fine. There might be some scarring, but nothing too serious. Now let me look at your leg."

That, too, proved to be healing well, despite his excursions. A little strained, maybe, but holding up.

"You are one lucky duck." Her tone was still brusque. "You haven't damaged anything, and you should be back up to full health by the day after tomorrow. You officially no longer require my services." She packed up her back, and he stood to see her out. It was a polite gesture, but there was nothing kind about it. She felt rather as if he wanted to make sure she didn't vandalize anything on the way out. She almost snarled at him. It wasn't _her_ fault he was a lying idiot!

She paused in the doorway, then turned around.

"You know, you could've just told me you were Spiderman. Would've made everything a lot easier."

She slammed the door behind her.

Asa paced in the elevator.

What on earth had possessed her? What was with the nasty? She barely knew him. It was almost reassuring to tell herself that it was just because she liked him, was attracted to him, even. Because then she could avoid what really scared her, the thing that she worried was the real reason for her emotional instability.

The doors opened with a ding, and Asa was glad to step out. The elevator felt too cramped. She stopped outside of Stephanie's door and took a deep breath before knocking. There was no response from inside, but as she turned to leave, she heard Stephanie call out from below.

"Oh, hey! Sorry, I'm down here." Asa leaned over the balcony to look down at Steph, who'd poked her head out from the kitchen.

"Is this a good time for a check-up?" Asa asked.

"As good as any. Come on down."

Asa followed Steph into the kitchen, where she was making rice.

"I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Sure thing. Do you want some rice?"

Asa shook her head. "No thanks. How are you feeling today?"

Stephanie shrugged. "Pretty good. Less tired, I guess."

"Good. Any bruising, dizziness, nausea, tenderness?"

Stephanie paused to think about it. "A little sore, I guess. No more so than like a good workout, though."

Asa nodded. "Great. Well, then, you should be fine. If we were in a hospital, I would officially discharge you." She pushed out her stool. Stephanie turned around, wide-eyed.

"Oh, you don't have to leave. You can really stay and have some rice if you want."

Asa stared at the countertop. "Thanks, but I'm really tired. I'm going to go take a nap. Maybe I'll head back down later."

Stephanie shrugged. "Cool cool cool. I'll probably still be here."

Asa didn't reply, but waved a hand behind her in acknowledgement as she trudged back up the stairs.

When she woke up, it was dark. She tried to sit up, and got caught in the sheets, and screamed. She thrashed at the blankets and finally fell out of bed with a thud. It was then she realized where she was, and that she was awake, and it was just a nightmare. Slowly, she crawled to the corner where the bed met the wall and sat, curled up in on herself. She hoped nobody came to check on her. Her sobs were great messy things, shaking her entire body, noisy and wobbly and horrible. She could feel straps rubbing at her wrists, and she squeezed her eyes shut against bright, sterile light that wasn't there. She told herself that, over and over- it wasn't real, it wasn't there, it was over- but whenever she made any headway, she remembered how awful she'd been to Peter, and just hated herself, and cried harder.

She tried telling herself that this was stupid, that she was overreacting. Everyone had the right to be angry sometimes, and one outburst didn't make her a horrible person. She even realized, in a detached kind of a way, that she was probably still suffering from some version of post-traumatic stress disorder.

It didn't matter. When it was dark, and silent, logic became a fragile, useless thing, easily devoured by her fear. Fear devoured everything, and gave birth to anger, and loathing, and a bone-trembling exhaustion. She hugged her knees to herself and tried to breath, though it was unbelievably difficult, hot and cold in turns, and the air seemed to catch in her throat, then her sternum, before finally seeping into her lungs.

Just breathe.

Eventually, the breathing evened out a little. As soon as she realized this, she pulled herself up to her feet and stumbled down the stairs.

"Um, lights. JARVIS, _lights._" She was still incapable of forming coherent sentences, but thankfully, it wasn't the first time JARVIS had dealt with nightmares. The lights came on, just bright enough for her to pick her way downstairs to the kitchen. She flinched away from everything: the railing, the refrigerator, the pot. Eventually, in spite of having occasionally to stop and sit with her head between her knees, she managed to put on a pot of water, and make herself a mug of hot cocoa. She inhaled the steam, and the smell calmed her a little. She drank it slowly, sipping it tentatively. She tried to focus on the warm ceramic, the yellow quality of the light. JARVIS turned on some soothing music- something faintly jazzy, but mellow- and she started, but it helped.

Eventually, she felt well enough to clean herself up. She splashed water on her face and neck, pulled her hair up.

"JARVIS, what time is it?"

"The time is 1:08 P.M."

"Thanks."

One o' clock in the morning; odds were no one else was up. She changed into sweats, and was about to head out the door when JARVIS interrupted.

"Agent Romanoff would like to see you."

"Oh." Asa stopped mid-step. "Where is she?"

"Just outside the door."

"Oh! Well, let her in!"

The door slid open, to reveal Natasha standing with her arms across her chest. Asa smiled tentatively.

"You're supposed to start your training today."

Training! She'd completely forgotten! She bit her lip.

"Yeah, sorry, I fell asleep…"

"The day's not over yet." She eyed Asa up and down. "That'll do. Come on." She turned around and walked away, and Asa had to run to catch up.

* * *

_Kind of a short one, but more coming, I promise! And brownie points to anyone who caught the extremely nerdy reference somewhere in the middle..._

_As always, if you liked it (or even if you didn't) leave me a review and let me know!  
_


	15. Chapter 15

_Happy Thanksgiving weekend, all who celebrate! And to any who do not, have a happy weekend any way!_

* * *

Asa was less than surprised to discover that Stark Tower also had an entire floor of training room. There was a shooting range, obstacle courses, gym equipment, a boxing arena, a variety of weapons and dummies, and what appeared to be a massive jungle gym. It was through this tangle that Natasha lead her, to a smaller room off to one side.

It was a dance studio, the kind that doesn't exist in real life. It had beautiful, smooth floors free of gaff, mirrors covering all four walls, and three levels of barres. There was a stand-up piano in one corner, and next to it, Natasha hit a few controls on the walls to reveal a complicated-looking sound system. Asa couldn't help but grin, turning around to take it all in. Even the light was perfect- not sunlight, since there were no windows, but as close as possible.

Natasha plugged in an iPod, then turned to look Asa up and down. She pursed her lips, and planted her hands on her hips.

"You dance."

Asa blinked, then shrugged.

"Sometimes, I guess. Not so much, lately. How did you…?" she trailed off, not wanting to ask how much Clint had told her about their imprisonment. Natasha, thankfully, caught on.

"I would've known even if Clint hadn't mentioned it. You walk like a dancer. Good habits. We're going to start with a warm-up, see where you're at, and we'll go from there." She turned around and pressed a button, and a four-count etude poured into the room from invisible speakers. Tasha didn't wait for Asa, but went straight to the bar and prepared for a basic barre. She was halfway through doing a set of plies in first before she seemed to notice that Asa was still standing, watching the barre warily, frozen in place.

"Asa, barre. Now."

Asa swallowed hard. She shook her head.

Tasha faced Asa square on and planted her hands on her hips.

"I gave you instructions, Asalynn."

Asa struggled and found her voices. "I… I can't."

Tasha considered her, then released her hands to her sides and spoke more softly. She didn't question Asa's fear, or her fixation on this one thing, this one element of her imprisonment. If this was the thing she just couldn't face, well, Tasha understood.

"Asa. It won't get better if you don't make it get better."

She waited for Asa to respond, and when she didn't, she took a threatening step in and crossed her arms under her chest. Her voice became low and soft and terrifying.

"Are you going to follow my instructions, Asalynn, or am I going to make you?" Asa glanced up, and was caught in Tasha's stare. There was the briefest moment of impasse, then, "Walk to the barre."

Slowly, Asa nodded. She could do that. Just walk to the barre. A few steps, and she was there. She wasn't wearing shoes, or rehearsal clothes, and was in no way prepared. But she made it to the barre, and placed her right hand carefully on top of it. Tasha followed her closely, stood behind her, and kept talking.

"First position." When Asa hesitated, she snapped, barking out the order again.

"First position!" She so reminded Asa of her second ballet teacher, a woman with too tight of a bun and a nasty temper, that she slid automatically into first position.

"Demi-plie, set of four. Now!" Of their own accord, Asa's knees bent, her core tightened, and she sunk into a decent demi-plie. Her left arm lifted from en bas to first. She breathed in as she squeezed her thighs together, returning to first, then followed it with another demi, then another, then another. It felt surprisingly good, and no less terrifying. She still wouldn't have been able to keep going had not Tasha stood behind her, barking orders. As long as she was just following orders, it was possible. Possible to be _here_, in this studio, rather than in a plain grey apartment, dancing the hours away while she waited for Clint to come back, or wake up, or for some way out.

Tasha pushed her as hard as she could go in her bare feet. Soon she was sweating and trembling, and only when her breath started coming in gasps did Tasha let up. Asa stepped away from the barre, and just then realized that the music was no longer playing, that it had stopped ages ago. Tasha was watching her, arms still folded across her chest. Asa shifted awkwardly, waiting for her to pass some judgment.

"You're not in bad shape. We'll start the real work after the wedding, but for now, meet me here tomorrow, same time." She started to walk away, then threw her last instructions over her shoulder. "And bring shoes."

Shopping was Clint's idea. The wardrobe that JARVIS had arranged for Asa was all high quality, but mostly pretty basic; jeans, slacks, a few skirts, and a variety of blouses. All very tasteful, but when Asa asked Clint if there was any way for her dad and ask him to ship her stuff, he got very quiet.

"It's not a good idea."

"Of course," she sighed. They still didn't know what had happened to Liretto, or even really what she'd wanted with Asa. Clint nodded, not looking at her. It suddenly struck Asa how unfair this all was. Just because she'd run into Liretto once in a train station, and now she was cut off from her dad, her life, even her work. All because of some stupid, skanky…

"Bitch!" she swore. Clint spared her a glance, but didn't say anything. They just sat silently on the rooftop, while Asa stewed in her own frustration until it finally wore out. Then she sighed. She wondered if her dad even knew she was alive, then decided she'd rather not know.

"Feel better?" Clint asked. She nodded, then shook her head. She sighed again, then drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

"Not really."

"You could go shopping."

Asa froze, her mouth working in astonishment. She blinked a few times.

"Wha- wai- what?! Where did that come from?"

Clint half-grinned. "You were just asking if you could get the rest of your clothes. I said no. You still need new clothes, and something to do. Go shopping."

Asa sat up straight, considering. "Huh. Not a bad idea. Look at you be all girl-savvy!" She grinned lopsidedly. Clint returned his attention to the city below.

"I pay attention."

Ultimately, that was how Clint got roped into coming. Asa and Stephanie both needed some things, but Fury didn't want either out in the city alone. A precaution, he called it. Everyone else was either busy with the wedding, the serum, or trying to get Beth on the phone, so Clint it was. Before they left, a very harassed Pepper handed them both silver credit cards. They tried to hand them back, to no avail.

"Don't worry," she assured them, "they top out at 2,000 a month. Tony won't even notice." So, totally awed by the amount of money in their pockets, off they went. Thankfully, Clint both drove and had a car, a sleek little model that Asa knew nothing about, but which Stephanie whistled admiringly over. He took them, at their mutual request, to a nice mall.

Clint was right. Shopping _did_ make her feel better. There was something about figuring out exactly what she needed, then finding the best quality for her money. Her money might be, for all intents and purposes, unlimited, but she still couldn't resist a bargain. She and Stephanie debated colors, fits, styles. They tried on more clothes than Asa had ever owned in her life, and they were soon laughing and bickering like old friends. Clint tailed them surreptitiously, always within easy earshot if they needed an extra opinion on a dress. He was actually more helpful than Asa would've guessed, and she wondered how much time he'd spent helping Natasha pick out clothes.

They bought shoes, scarves, jewelry, and Asa splurged on a beautiful brown-pink suede jacket. Combined with the basics that JARVIS had picked out, they created respectable wardrobes. She wandered listlessly around a dance store for a while, just running her fingers over the various leos and even taking a skirt off the rack. She put it back quickly, then remembered that she had another lesson with Nat that night. She hesitated, not wanting to even think about trying on anything that she would need for a proper dance lesson. She remembered the way Nat had snapped at her, winced, and glanced at the store across the way to make sure that Stephanie was still occupied. Slowly, she forced herself to pull several leotards and a pair of skirts off of the rack, let herself quietly into a dressing room, and finally settled on three leos, in black, grey, and red, and two skirts, both black. It took much longer than she would have liked, but then dance clothes always did. Stephanie was already starting to look for her. . Asa caught Clint's eye, slightly panicked, and he nodded slightly. Her heart eased a little as he stepped over to Stephanie and pointed out a set of jackets on the back wall, distracting her.

Tentatively, Asa approached the saleswoman loitering near the shoes.

"Hi…"

The girl, no older than sixteen and heavily mascara-ed, smiled brightly.

"Hi! Can I help you?"

Asa swallowed, and attempted a grin back. "Yeah, I'm just looking for shoes." She gestured vaguely at the shelves of shoes behind her.

"Absolutely. Flats or toe-shoes?"

Asa chewed her lip, waffling.

"Uh, both, actually. Split-soled canvas for the flats, fives." The sales girl, obviously surprised by her confident specificity, dug around the shelves for a second before she pulled out a few boxes.

"How many?"

Again, Asa debated, then remembered the black credit card burning a hole in her new wallet.

"Three, please." That would be enough to get her through several months, even if she was dancing every day.

"And what would you like for the toe-shoes?" Asa recited her preferred brand and size, and the girl found a pair for her to try on. Asa set her basket on the floor, and sat on the low bench in front of a mirror. Slowly, she pulled off her sneakers, taking the time for once to untie them. The sales girl handed her a set of clipped-off tights, which Asa pulled up past her calves. She rubbed her sweaty hands together, and carefully took off the box lid. The shoes had been packed with tissue paper, which she pushed to the side as she pulled out the shoes. She unwound the ribbon, took a deep breath, and starting with her right foot, pulled the shoes on. Her fingers were shaking so badly that she had difficulty tying the ribbons, but her hands remembered the motions, and she eventually got them knotted.

Then came the hard part. Very slowly, unsure of whether her toes and ankles could take the weight, Asa stood, then rose onto a wobbly pointe. It had been a very long time since she had danced on her toes, and it hurt more than she remembered. But the shank was right, and the sating pulled tight enough over her toes. She was grateful that her old brand still fit her, and she didn't have to spend any time trying to find new ones. She thanked the sales girl, added a few sets of tights, standard and convertible, to her basket, and made her purchases. She was still shaky walking out the door, but it was surprisingly easy to smile at Clint and Stephanie as they moved on to the next store.

Thankfully, Stephanie remembered other things she needed; makeup, hair products, and other miscellany. It was Clint who reminded them about the wedding; neither of them had anything to wear. So off they went, this time to a variety of high-class boutiques. Asa felt awkward and out of place. She was sure that all of the suited employees just knew that she was shopping on a borrowed card. Stephanie seemed equally tense. Clint had no such qualms, and after a few quiet words, the suits were more than hospitable. They helped the girls find dresses, selecting items off the rack seemingly at random, but that always seemed to suit them perfectly. Asa had a hard time deciding, long after Stephanie had settled on a beautiful blue lace piece that hugged her just right. It wasn't until one of the suits practically forced her into a concoction of pink ruffles that she would never have chosen for herself that she knew what she wanted. It may have looked like a cotton-candy atrocity on the rack, but somehow… it was perfect. Another pair of dresses for the rehearsal dinner, and they were done.

They stopped for pretzels on the way back.

* * *

_As always, leave a review, let me know if you liked it! Also, kudos to those who caught my Community reference. :) It is not mine, just belongs to those lovely people who make the show.  
_


	16. Chapter 16

_Once upon a time, InfinityLessThree meant to write. And then InfinityLessThree got distracted. But then Teddy'sTwin wrote! And InfinityLessThree was inspired, and she posted new things. _

_Also, I wrote in a previous chapter about pointe shoe ribbons... and hoped that no one would know that you have to stitch them on yourself. Obviously, you are all cleverer than that. So just forgive me, and suspend your disbelief. Also, enjoy this chapter. :)_

* * *

Asa had planned on taking another shift the next day, but she had forgotten about the rehearsal dinner. When Stephanie reminded her over breakfast, she scrabbled for a phone, forgetting that she still didn't have one, but Tasha forestalled her.

"I already arranged it," she informed her as she handed out plates of pancakes. "You don't work again until Monday." Asa thanked her profusely; she was not entirely sure that it was all for rearranging her work schedule.

Stephanie and Clint had collaborated, and the result was a pile of the most delicious pancakes Asa had ever had, maplecream syrup, and fresh fruit salad. Pepper stabbed at hers in between sentences; she had been on the phone every time Asa had seen her the previous day, too. This time, it seemed to be about the linens.

"No, absolutely not. Well, the contract you signed says eggshell, Timothy. Yes. Yes, thank you."

No sooner had ended the call and taken a bite than it started vibrating again, and she barely waited long enough to finish swallowing before she answered.

"Pepper Potts. Yes, I am. What seems to be the problem with them? Yes. Yes, I can see how that would be difficult. Is there… No. It's a little late for that, don't you think. Yes. What's the difference? I see. I put my faith in your artistic opinion. Yes, the half-straw is fine. Yes, thanks for letting me know." She set the phone down and picked up a fork. "The lights," she informed Natasha, who had been asking a silent question. "Something about having to shift the color slightly, because an order didn't come in? Anyway, he said it shouldn't make a difference, so I decided a compromise was in order."

That was the pattern for the rest of the day. Pepper wandered around, answering questions and taking phone calls. Natasha had taken over decorating for the rehearsal dinner, and sternly refused admittance to the large, open floor of Stark Tower that was being converted for the purpose. When Asa and Stephanie offered to help, she thanked them politely and sent them off to get ready. It seemed a little early for that- still three hours before the rehearsal dinner, but when Natasha told a girl to do something, she did it. After some discussion, Stephanie fetched her things from her room and brought them to Asa's room, where they had a whole bathroom all to themselves, and an excellent sound system. JARVIS turned out to be a wonderful D.J.

Nearly an hour later, Stephanie was still dissatisfied with her makeup, and Asa was at a complete loss about her hair. Asa was starting to wonder if Natasha hadn't timed things right after all, as she straightened her hair, then curled it, then decided with a sigh to re-wet it and start all over. Stephanie kept having to re-do her eyeliner, which meant removing and reapplying everything from the base up.

Natasha appeared in the bathroom doorway.

"I was hoping to get a pair of hands to help move some tables, but I can see I have bigger problems."

Asa looked up sheepishly from the tub faucet, where she had been trying to rinse her hair without getting the rest of her wet. Natasha eyed them both up and down, pursed her lips, then nodded suddenly.

"Both of you, bring your things and come with me." She waited for them to gather up their dresses, shoes, and sundry accessories, then led them to her room, two doors down from Asa's. Asa was surprised to see how small it was, even though she knew that both Natasha and Clint divided their time between Stark Tower and… wherever else it was they went. There was a single couch, a wall-mounted screen that likely served both as TV and computer, a bed built into the wall, a walk-in closet, and a spacious bathroom that she obviously shared with Clint, judging by the razor and aftershave left on the sink. Belatedly, Asa also noticed that the bathroom had another door, besides the one they had come in, which led to Clint's room.

Natasha had them lay out their dresses in her room, then practically shoved Asa towards the shower.

"Use the green bottles on your hair, the clear for your skin, and the blue to wash off your face. And for heaven's sakes, use a proper razor to shave. There's one in the drawer." She waved Asa away, then turned to Stephanie.

"At least you have some sense, but what have you put in your hair?" As Asa retreated into the shower, tucked behind a convenient extra wall to hide it from the rest of the bathroom, Natasha was taking the pins from Stephanie's blonde hair and shaking it out. Asa showered quickly, trying to remember which colors had been for what. There was a variety of bottles on the built-in shelves, and none of them were in any language resembling English. She was sure she'd got it right though, and so stepped out and toweled herself off confidently. She smelled _wonderful_, and she was pretty sure her hair and skin were already glowing. She didn't know what products Natasha used, but they were probably expensive.

Natasha spared a glance for her as she re-emerged in a robe, glancing up only for a moment from Stephanie's makeup, which she had taken off entirely and was now re-applying. Asa had to admit that Natasha was a genius. Normally pretty, Natasha's style choices elevated her to unquestionably stunning. Her hair was done in a mess of half-tucked-up curls, and whatever Natasha was doing on her eyelids was making her positively sparkle. Asa wolf-whistled, and Stephanie blushed.

"Isn't she good?" asked Stephanie. Asa nodded vigorously, and Natasha shrugged.

"It's useful, knowing how to look your best. Men aren't always at their brightest when confronted with a pretty face and a pair of boobs." Both Asa and Stephanie burst out into giggles. Clint walked in and eyed them suspiciously, which only made them laugh harder. Natasha, too, seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face as Clint asked her if she knew what had happened to his cologne.

"Which one, the Old Spice? I threw it away. I got you a new one though." She nodded toward the medicine cupboard. He glared at her, but fetched the new cologne and took it with him, muttering blackly. As soon as he shut the door behind him, they all dissolved into laughter again. Soon enough, Natasha had finished with Stephanie and sent her to put on her dress. Then she started in on Asa, not bothering to turn her towards a mirror.

She worked quickly, working something into her hair, then pinning it precisely onto her head, and possibly braiding small pieces of it, from the feel of it.

"You normally keep your hair short." Asa moved to nod, then stopped herself.

"Yeah, I'm at a loss when it's long."

"There's a stylist coming for Pepper in the morning. If you want, she can cut your hair, if there's time." Asa grinned. How wonderful it would be, to have her hair the proper length.

"Yeah, that would great." Natasha continued her work. When she was satisfied, she started in on her makeup, somehow using less than Asa had, but ten times as effectively. She had her close her eyes, then open them, then turn her head this way, then that. Finally, she took step back and nodded in satisfaction.

"You'll do. Go get dressed, we don't have a lot of time."

Asa was careful pulling on her dress, letting the cream satin slide over her arms past her hair, which felt precarious at best. The shoes were next, then a pair of gold earrings specially bought to match the gold detail work on the dress. Only when she was finished, and had helped Stephanie zip up her blue cocktail number, did Natasha allow them in front of her full-length mirror.

Asa gasped. She looked nothing like herself, and exactly like herself at the same time. Her hair, all done in delicate curls that seemed to be escaping from the tiny braids Natasha had set, hung perfectly around her face and tickled her bare shoulders. It made her eyes seem bigger, brighter than usual. And she'd been right, her skin _was_ practically glowing, and her smile didn't look silly as it usually did, but charming. Experimentally, she fluttered her eyelashes, and almost dissolved into a fit of delighted giggles. Stephanie's reaction was the same, and for all the same reasons. Her eyes were bluer than Asa had ever seen, and her smile was brilliant.

"Now, if you've both finished, I need Asa downstairs. Stephanie, you can wait here if you'd like; the dinner doesn't start for a few minutes yet."

Obediently, Asa followed Natasha out of the room and into the elevator.

"JARVIS?" asked Natasha.

"Yes, Agent Romanoff?"

"Could you please let Dr. Banner know that Stephanie is in my rooms, and that I would appreciate it if he would escort her to dinner?"

"Of course, Agent Romanoff."

Asa tried to hide her grin by asking hastily, "What did you need me for?"

Natasha shrugged. "Nothing. I just wanted to get use both out of there before Dr. Banner gets there."

This time Asa had to bite her lip. Then the elevator opened onto the rehearsal dinner, and she forgot all about Natasha's match-making.

It was a fairytale. An expensive, elegant, tasteful fairytale, but magical nonetheless. Pepper and Natasha had used the Stark Tower aesthetic to their advantage. Draperies in cream and gold accentuated long, curved lines and high ceilings. Delicate flowers, covering the entire range of color from white to goldenrod, were artfully arranged against the draperies, and there was light everywhere. Asa tried to identify the errant half-straw lights, but couldn't; nothing was out of place. The floor was filled with three tables, all draped in cream clothes and set with a startling array of dinnerware and cutlery. Embossed name cards stood on each plate. Even the chairs were gorgeous; some kind of modern Hepplewhite with beautifully embroidered cushions. Natasha shook her head at Asa's enjoyment of it all, and stalked down the stairs to bully some caterers. Asa descended more slowly, trying to look at everything at once. A flash and a click made her start, and nearly fall down the stairs. A hand caught her elbow, awkwardly, from the stair below. She blinked into Peter's face, for once level with her own.

"Sorry, I've been testing the flash and the lighting levels. I didn't think you would, ah, I mean…" He hastily helped her right herself.

"Didn't think I would fall all the way down the stairs and break my neck at the bottom?" she supplied tartly. He grinned, either missing her sarcasm or choosing to ignore it.

"Exactly!"

She shook her head, exasperated, then stopped when she remembered how few pins Natasha had used. Besides, it was hard to stay annoyed with that wide of a grin for long.

"This is really…" she gestured around the room, looking for a big, sophisticated, gorgeous enough word to describe it.

"Beautiful?" he suggested softly.

She considered the word, then shook her head. "No. Not the right word. It's more than that- complete, whole, illuminating- something that really means all of that. I'll find it," she promised, off-handedly. Peter shook his head ruefully, as though he had been trying to teach her something and she didn't understand.

"What?" she asked.

He just half-grinned and ducked his head. "Nothing. But we're blocking the staircase, come on." He offered her his elbow, but he was at such an awkward angle that she declined, picking the rest of the way down the staircase, holding the railing just in case her heels proved too much. Peter saw her safely to the bottom, then lifted his camera.

"Well, I'd better go take some pretty. Pictures. Pretty pictures. Because I'm a photographer. That… takes pretty pictures." And with that he was gone, snapping hasty photos of anything remotely interesting. Asa felt her heart sink a little, but she told it sternly to behave and wandered over to one of the tables, looking idly for her name.

Pepper was already there, of course, greeting people graciously as they came in, standing to chat for a few moments with one guest before moving smoothly to the next. She looked as beautiful as Asa had ever seen her, and only more so for her perfect, smiling courtesy. Tony, of course, was no where to be seen, but other than that, the room was filling up quickly. Asa, of course, knew hardly anyone.

Siezed by a sudden fit of shyness, not uncommon at parties, she abandoned the search for her place setting and wandered over instead to the bar.

"Can I get you anything?" offered the bartender.

Asa hesitated. She didn't really want anything, but perhaps having a drink in her hand would make her feel less awkward.

"Uh, yes please. Could I just get… oh, something that looks like a martini but isn't." She smiled apologetically. "I'm a serious light-weight." The bartender caught her smile and returned it, not unkindly.

"No problem. I'll mix you up something special." He turned his back on her and started mixing something, and Asa turned to survey the room, hoping perhaps that Stephanie had appeared, or Steve, or anyone that she could count on to save her from her perpetual wall-flower-ness.

The bartender handed her a drink, something light-colored and fizzy. She thanked him. Another woman appeared at her elbow, and he asked what he could get her. The woman, a brunette, eyed Asa's drink, then said, "I'll have one of that." Asa's eyes widened, and she cleared her throat.

"Um, actually, it's not as much of a drink as… just a drink. I mean, there's no alcohol in it," she explained. People were often disappointed or skeptical when they discovered she didn't drink. The woman sighed gratefully.

"Oh, even better." The bartender started mixing the drink, and Asa relaxed a little. The truth was, it wasn't just being a light-weight that stopped her drinking. Aside from the taste, of which she was not always a fan, Asa had worked in the E.R. long enough to avoid anything but the very lightest of drinking.

"I'm Jane Foster." The woman held out a hand, which Asa shook firmly. It was good to meet someone here who actually shook hands, instead of curtsying, or nodding, or whatever it was rich people did.

"Asalynn Liretto."

"So which do you know, bride or groom?"

Asa shrugged. "Both. Neither very well, though. I'm kind of here on sufferance."

Jane nodded. "Me as well. I'm his plus one." She indicated a large, golden-haired man in the crowd, and Asa was startled to recognize Thor.

"Oh! I didn't realize he uh, dated." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Asa bit her lip, and cursed her stupidity.

Jane laughed, though, and it wasn't a mean laugh. "Sometimes, I don't think he realizes it, either." But Thor, who was talking to Stephanie and Bruce, who had just appeared, glanced their way, and when he saw Jane, his eyes lit up. "Actually, I'd better head over there, before he forgets he brought me." Her smile said that she wasn't really concerned, that it was just a polite way of excusing herself so she could be with him. "It was nice to meet you, Asa."

"You too." Asa watched her go, feeling slightly heartened. She took a sip of her drink, which was fizzy and fruity and a little something else she couldn't name, and thankfully completely alcohol free. She nodded her thanks to the bartender, and started a slow circuit of the room, pausing to talk with Clint for a moment, who was looking very dapper, and smelling very nice. She mentioned it, and he scowled at her, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. He was pretty clearly observed in watching Natasha, though, so she left him in peace and continued walking, and caught Pepper in just in time to see her sneak a glass of champagne in one gulp.

"Nervous?" she asked.

Pepper replaced the glass sheepishly on the tray. "A little. Tony's not here. I've got a speech prepared, though, in case we can't find him. Something along the lines of 'Pardon me, is everybody there? Because if everybody's there I'd like to thank you all for coming to the wedding, I'd appreciate you going even more. I mean you must have lots of better things to do…'" She said this all very fast, and trailed off at the end of it, as if realizing what she'd said. "I'm a little nervous."

Asa laid a comforting hand on Pepper's.

"He'll be here. We may have to go find him, but he'll be somewhere that he can be easily on found. On purpose. He might be nervous, but I think he wants to be here just as much as you want him to be." Pepper smiled slightly.

"Thank you, Asa. I'm going to see if I can find him." With that, she set off, enlisting Bruce, Clint, and a man in military uniform Asa didn't know in her search. Tempted to hide behind the staircase, Asa only allowed herself a few moments rest before moving on, nearly running into Peter.

"Hi."

"Hi!" His reply was enthusiastic, but then he couldn't seem to think of anything else to say. They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and Peter shuffled his feet. "So, uh, the party is really… You know, it's really beautiful."

"We talked about this," she teased gently. "Beautiful isn't the right word."

"Yeah. True. Did you ever find that other word?"

She considered. It had been tickling at the back of her mind all evening.

"I'm not sure. Resplendent, maybe? Picturesque? Ethereal, maybe. That's pretty close."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?"

Just then, Tony entered with his usual theatrics, and Asa winced.

"I'm here- I'm here!" he announced, and the only thing that could have cast his sobriety into further question was an actual liquor bottle. "Now the party can start!" He stumbled down the stairs and over to the table where he sat with Pepper. Asa waved quickly at Peter and wove her way over to the empty seat next to Stephanie, which thankfully had her name card on the plate.

"Oh, Pepper," Stephanie breathed. "Should I-?" She moved as if to stand up, but Asa placed a hand on her shoulder. Pepper could handle this on her own, and any help would probably just be a hindrance.

"No, honey, wait for a second." If Tony got any worse, though, Asa would let Stephanie run to Pepper's aid, and social grace be damned. She slid into her seat. Tony stood up again.

"Welcome, everybody." He'd managed to get another drink in his hand, and it was actually slopping out the sides. Asa wanted to hide under the table.

"Oh, heavens," whispered Stephanie next to her, and she knew she was not the only one.

"To my wedding rehearsal… dinner… thing," Tony fumbled. "I mean, our. Our, sorry, Pepper, d-darling." His speech was slurred, a little difficult to understand.

"We don't make the speeches yet, Tony," Pepper reminded him lightly. The only thing that ruined the effect was her expression.

"Oh, that's right. That's later," Tony seemed to wait for her to nod before nodding himself. "But- I already started."

"Tony-"

"Sorry everyone! Enjoy your dinner!"

At that moment, perhaps encouraged by Natasha's glare, the waiters began to bring the appetizers around, and some of the attention was deflected from the head table.

"Pepper handled that so well," Stephanie whispered in admiration. Asa nodded in agreement, then ignored the rest of the conversation for a while as she tried to dig delicately into the bruschetta that had been placed on her plate.

"Oh, come on guys, he wasn't that bad," Beth told the others encouragingly. Asa shook her head. He'd been awful, and there was no escaping it. Tony usually held his liquor much better than that.

"You're a saint," she informed Beth, and meant it. While she'd been wincing, Beth had actually been trying to smooth things over.

"No, I've just been to rehearsal dinners where it ended up a _lot_ worse."

"The night is still young," countered Bruce. Asa noticed that she wasn't the only one drinking water, or punch, and was grateful.

"Don't jinx this." Natasha, apparently finished with bullying the staff, took her place across from Clint. "It's bad enough already." Asa followed her gaze to the head table. Tony was trying to convince Pepper to try the champagne.

"I think you've drunk enough for both of us." Pepper's tone was calm, but her frustration was obvious. Asa made a mental note to make sure that Tony got plenty of water. It would serve him right to be hungover in the morning, but Pepper deserved better. The salad course arrived, and conversation moved on. Everyone kept an eye on Tony, but Pepper kept him well in check. Asa's heart ached a little for her, but there was nothing to be done except eat and talk and pretend that all was well.

The conversation flowed around her, and Asa followed it with interest, inserting only the occasional comment. The lobster arrived, and Asa was delighted that at the coincidence that it was exactly what had been served at the gala, so for a wonder, she knew how to eat it. It was delicious, too, though she was glad there wasn't much of it. Just as things were starting to really go well, the toasts began.

Pepper's parents started, and Asa was shocked at their oblique rudeness. Insulting Tony, at this point, was the same as insulting their daughter's good judgement. Asa felt like snarling, and it only got worse after that. One unbelievably callous person after another, no one seeming to notice how Pepper was clutching her hands in her lap, forcing herself to watch each toast and smile, and Asa was ready to stand up and stop the whole business, when one nasty man with a bald spot went too far and Pepper quietly excused herself. Asa hesitated, wondering if she should follow, but Stephanie was already gone. So when the man sat down, Asa stood firmly and waited for everyone to stop their chattering before she spoke.

"Well, there have been a lot of opinions in tonight's toasts," she glared at a few specific people, not caring that she was being rude, "but there are a few things that haven't been said that I would like to. For one thing, I would like to thank Tony and Pepper for this wonderful dinner. It's a monument, I think, to Pepper's skill, though of course we all know how wonderful she is. It seems that she can never do _anything_ wrong, and her good sense and beauty are unparalleled." She paused for a moment to let that sink in, keeping her voice as light and calm as possible. "And of course, none of this would be possible without Tony, who is the most generous of hosts, and obviously has the good sense to see what a wonderful woman Pepper is. Otherwise, he wouldn't be marrying her." There were a few titters, and Asa smiled inside, a Chesire cat kind of smile. "So to Tony and Pepper," she lifted her glass, "May their lives together be as happy as they deserve, and may they be surrounded by people who love and support them." She took a sip and sat, and everyone around her was forced to do the same. Clint nodded approvingly, and everyone at the table grinned or smiled a little, though some tried to hide it. None of the Avengers, nor their friends, had found it easy to stand by and watch Tony and Pepper be ridiculed.

As Pepper and Stephanie were not yet back, Rhodey stood next and gave a marvelous speech. Asa kept an eye on the door, as he did, and he kept talking until they finally reappeared, then a bit longer for good measure. It was full of all the things everyone else should've been saying, but much kinder and less pointed than Asa's speech had been. When he concluded the toast, Asa actually reached over and took a sip of Clint's champagne as well. Tony stood.

"I guess I'll go next. I know, that my reputation isn't the best." Either some of the alcohol had worn off, or this was very important, because his speech was clear, if deliberate. "And I deserve it, because let's face it, I wasn't the most reputable. I wasn't. It's actually one of the reasons I hired Pepper on. She wouldn't sleep with me." A lady directly in Asa's line of sight opened her mouth as if to catcall, but caught Asa's glare, and closed it again quickly.

"She kept it very professional, which, honestly, threw me for a loop, because let's face it, who can resist me? I mean come on." There were honest laughs. "I hired her, and I've never regretted it. She's kept me in line, she's kept me from… deteriorating into something no one would ever be able to fix, except for her.

"And you know what's really been the best part of all this? I mean, Pepper, of course, but getting to know someone that wasn't me, that… wasn't just another selfish person trying to get what they wanted out of me- she actually cared about me, which is hard, I know. I live with me, so I know. When I finally wrapped my brain around the fact that I cared about her, I…" he trailed off, then a glance at Pepper set him speaking again.

"I didn't know how to react. But of course, by then, I'd almost lost her. Thanks to Vanko, because I think without explosives things might never have worked out again. It was odd, I admit, after dating her for more than, I don't know, a day, to have her still there. By then I had a routine- and she broke it. I mean, she kept coming _back_. And if she hadn't been Pepper, I don't think she would have. She stayed with me, even though she knows, I'm, not the best guy to stay with.

"She stayed with me. For almost, what is it, five years now? Aren't most Hollywood couple remarried twice by then? She stayed with me for five years, waiting patiently until I could finally move my ass and realize what a great thing I had- I have. And hopefully will have, if she'll have me after tonight.

"She is the best thing I have, the one thing I really care about." He raised his glass, and everything else seemed to disappear for him except Pepper.

"Here's to my always, the one true constant in my life, Pepper Potts."

Asa cheered as loud as anyone else, and took another sip of Clint's champagne, and a good gulp of her water. The tension in the room had been broken, and the rest of the dinner- dessert, cheese, and then a good deal of talking over empty plates, went wonderfully. Stephanie, having finished her champagne, ordered another, and Asa eyed her askance.

"Here, sweetheart, have a glass of water while you're waiting for it to come." Stephanie sipped it, and Asa shook her head sternly.

"No, all of it."

So it went for the rest of the night. As Pepper plied Tony with water, Asa kept Stephanie's ratios right. She would not be pleased to wake up with a headache. When Bruce stood to escort her out, he mouthed a silent thank you to Asa. She nodded, pleased. People began trickling away, and when Asa asked Natasha if she needed help, she shook her head.

"Get some sleep. There's not much to be done here. And forget about training for tonight; we have more important things to worry about. I could use a hand in the morning, say ten?" Asa nodded to show her agreement, then made her way out, pausing once to smile at Peter, and wonder why she wasn't mad at him anymore?

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_A nice long one! What did you think? Let me know! And don't forget to keep up on Teddy'sTwin's story, Hope Rising.  
_


	17. Chapter 17

_Another chapter, so soon! What is this world coming to?_

_Also, a virtual cookie to anyone who catches the obscure, nerdy reference in the last chapter before I credit it at the end of this one. _

_Enjoy!_

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If there was a woman in the world that could put every bridezilla in the world should learn from, it was Pepper Potts. Even after Tony's shenanigans the night before, she was perfectly calm. She sat through the ministrations of the hairdresser, then a makeup artist, then was helped into her dressed with easy tranquility. There was no sign of last night's tension, just a sort of dazed disbelief. Tony only tried to break in once, but Natasha dealt with him summarily. Mostly, Asa curled up in a corner and watched, and her mouth hurt from smiling. Occasionally she was sent to fetch things like coffee or a box of safety pins. Once the hairdresser- a kindly woman whose hair was truly, unfortunately, fluorescently red- had finished with Pepper, Natasha nodded at her and she pulled Asa into the bathroom.

Asa eyed herself in the mirror, swallowing hard. She remembered another mirror, at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, when she had been too thin and her hair too long. As the hairdresser set up a chair and laid out her scissors, she pulled at the long strands, pulling them tight and then letting them spring back into curls. Cutting it seemed… She wasn't sure. But then she remembered trying to tie it up off her neck in Liretto's awful apartments, and she suddenly couldn't wait for the hairdresser to get to work.

The woman chatted while she worked, but Asa only half-listened. Her heart was pounding, and she told herself that she needed to do this, that it would be a way of reclaiming herself from her own personal hell. A memory of an arrow shaft and a man's life-blood threatened to rise up and choke her confidence, but she pushed it down angrily. She had thought, at the time, that she was making the right choice, and that was the best anyone could ask for.

"There you go, sweetie!"

Asa realized with a start that the hairdresser had finished, and turned to inspect herself.

The hairdresser, her own dye job aside, was miraculous. Asa's hair was just right, just long enough to curl over her forehead and ears, but not nearly long enough to be a nuisance. She'd done something with the layers, too, that kept her looking less like a boy and more like a fairy. She looked like herself again, and she grinned in spite of herself.

"You, my friend, are a genius!" The hairdresser waved away her thanks, but seemed pleased nonetheless.

Asa poked her head back into Pepper's room.

"Hey, what can I do?"

Pepper smiled over her shoulder.

"Nothing, for now. Just stand there and look pretty."

Natasha rolled her eyes behind Pepper's back.

"Actually, would you mind heading downstairs and making sure there are no major catastrophes? If anyone gives you trouble, just give them your doctor face."

Asa shot her a thumbs-up. She wandered downstairs to check on the wedding. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, for a miracle, so she reported to Natasha, then retreated to get changed. She had paid careful attention to everything Natasha had done the night before, and was more or less able to replicate it. Her dress today was the cotton-candy piece that she loved in spite of herself, and since her hair was already perfectly messy, it didn't take her long to get ready. Soon, she was downstairs, sitting in a bench close enough to see, but not so close that those who deserved to couldn't be in the front rows. The floor plan of the room had been rearranged, with light benches forming a slightly curved aisle down from the stairs, all facing a slightly raised platform in front of the window. The drapers and flowers, though, were still in place, and Asa sighed as she settled onto a bench. She though it was the most beautiful wedding she'd ever seen. People started trickling in, some of whom Asa recognized from the night before, but none of whom she knew. She waited shyly until Stephanie appeared. She waved frantically, catching her eye, and patted the seat next to her hopefully.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Stephanie asked as she sat. Asa nodded emphatically. It even _smelled_ beautiful.

"It's amazing what you can do."

Steve and Beth appeared, and came in to settle next to Stephanie. Asa complemented Beth quietly on her dress, and Steve and Stephanie slipped into easy conversation.

"Where's Bruce?" Steve asked, and Stephanie looked around sheepishly. Asa had to catch her smile before it snuck onto her face.

"I don't know. Did I… do something weird last night?"

Asa had to positively swallow her laugh. It was cute, how concerned Stephanie was with Bruce's opinion of her, when it was clear that she could stand on a table and tap-dance and he would still be besotted.

"You were pretty, um…" Steve trailed off, and Asa stubbornly refused to come to his aid. Beth had no such qualms.

"Out of it," she supplied. "But you weren't bad."

Asa had to admit the truth of that. For how tipsy she had been last night, Stephanie had remained very charming. Just a little… silly. But in a sweet way. Asa was envious.

"I wonder if I embarrassed him out of his mind." Stephanie seemed genuinely worried.

"I think he walked you back to your room," she prompted helpfully. It didn't seem to help.

"Oh, great, then I definitely embarrassed him out of his mind!"

Asa rolled her eyes a little and patted Stephanie on her back. "I'm sure you didn't."

"He's got two minutes," said Steve, changing the subject slightly.

"Or he's not coming," muttered Stephanie. Thankfully, just at that moment, Bruce appeared.

"Sorry I'm late." He slid into the row, and Asa quickly scooted over so that he could sit between her and Stephanie. "You feeling okay?" he asked Stephanie. She flushed.

"I'm fine. How are you?"

Bruce opened his mouth to answer, but then the music started. The crowd settled, and Tony found his way to the platform with his best man, the military man who'd made the wonderful toast the night before. Asa nodded in approval. Tony looked very dapper, and very sober. The music shifted, and Asa turned intuitively to watch Pepper enter from the stairs behind them.

She was stunning. Even watching her get ready hadn't prepared Asa for this. She was glowing with her own internal light, like a stained glass window set in front of a chandelier. Asa snuck a look at Tony, and almost squealed in delight. He looked positively awe-struck. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Peter taking unobtrusive photos not of Pepper, who was already being thoroughly recorded, but Tony. Asa was glad; if she was Pepper, she'd want to be able to remember the look on Tony's face forever.

The ceremony was simple, and if Tony fidgeted, well, he was pretty much a five-year-old. The important thing was that he stayed through the whole thing, and when they said their vows, he said them firmly and without hesitating. They kissed, and Asa's heart did a happy dance. Two of the most perfect people in the world for each other, and now they were married!

They flowed seamlessly into the dancing, and the rows of benches disappeared from behind them as Tony and Pepper shared the first dance. At the end of it, Pepper's father cut in, and then more couples joined them. Asa edged away from the dance floor, pleased with all the happy, but not even wanting to step in rhythm. She wandered through the crowds, watched Beth pull a reluctant Steve onto the dance floor. She craned her neck a little when it looked like Bruce was going to ask Stephanie to dance, but he was waylaid by some wench Asa didn't know in a green dress. She was wearing a wedding ring, too. After a few moments, Stephanie positively ran away, and tossed back an entire glass of Long Island lemonade in one gulp. Asa winced, wondering whether Stephanie could even taste the vodka. She wove her way in that direction, but Peter got there before her, and she threw him a grateful glance. Soon he was teasing her, taking picture after picture in an attempt to get her to smile.

Asa, firmly denying her instincts to save Stephanie, decided to stay back and see how Peter would fare on his own. Just as he was starting to push it, Steve appeared to rescue her. Then, just as Asa thought all would be well, Tony popped up behind them to irritate Stephanie further.

Asa shook her head. It was possibly the most drama she'd seen in real life, ever. Thankfully, after a few curt words, Steve pulled Stephanie away from Peter and Steve and onto the dance floor. Beth was watching them fondly from the sidelines. Asa walked to her side, and struck up a casual conversation. They talked about Steve for a bit, Beth blushing prettily, then about Stephanie and Bruce. They agreed that Bruce should just make his move already.

A flash and a click made Asa started. Peter stood there, of course, camera dangling from one hand and grinning like he'd just played a wonderful prank. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, come on, two pretty ladies and they don't appreciate having their pictures taken?" He snapped another photo. Asa raised an eyebrow, but refused to say anything. She'd remembered this morning that she was annoyed with him on account of the whole Spider-man thing. She turned her back on him pointedly and resumed her conversation with Beth. A tap on her shoulder interrupted her.

"Asa?"

"What do you want, Peter?" She kept her tone very polite, and noted that he'd set down his camera.

"Would you like to dance?"

Asa forgot that she was annoyed with Peter. She forgot that she was safe in Stark Tower, that Beth was smiling encouragingly at her side, that there was music and a real dance floor and she was wearing heels. All she could do was shake her head mutely.

Peter held out a hand. "Please? You're mad at me. This is supposed to help!"

Asa took a step back from the dance floor, then another.

She didn't want to dance, not a little bit, not ever again.

"She would love to dance with you." Natasha had appeared behind Asa's shoulder, and spoke sweetly in her ear. "Wouldn't you, Asa?" Asa shook her head again, feeling vaguely guilty at Peter's confusion.

"Asalynn Liretto, get yourself on that dance floor before I throw you onto it," Natasha ordered, not unkindly. She gave her a little shove, Peter caught her hand, and her was pulling her towards the music. She closed her eyes and let him guide her, swallowing her heart. Her hands were shaking, and probably sweating, and she wished that she had ear-lids to close out the music. She still didn't open her eyes when Peter stopped and turned her, shifting her hand in his and placing his other hand at her waist.

Vaguely, that didn't seem right. Without opening her eyes, she shifted his hand a little higher, to the bottom of her shoulder blade. It felt safer, that way. He took the correction without comment, then took a single step forward. Asa had to step back, or be pushed. She stepped back. He took another step to the side, and she followed. Just as she was starting to think this might be okay, he sped up the steps, set them in sync with the beat. Asa completed a full box-step before she panicked. Her eyes snapped open and she tried to pull away.

He stopped her.

"Oh, no, you don't. You're still mad, and you're not leaving until I've made it up to you with my charming dancing skills. Come here."

He took another slow step tugging at her insistently. She opened her mouth to speak, and found it entirely dry. She swallowed a few times, then tried again.

"I- it's not that, it's just…" her words faded, and she started over. "Dancing is… it's not my thing," she explained lamely. He cocked his head, surprised.

"Really? 'Cause you're dancing beautifully right now." He twirled her under his arm to make his point. Her feet moved automatically, pivoting and stepping back into him, and she clenched her jaw. If she could just keep herself _here_, safe, forget about Liretto and the hospital room, and…

"I didn't say I wasn't good at it," she countered. He grinned.

"But you said it wasn't your thing."

"It's not," she insisted. Don't mind your feet. Just focus on Peter. "But I am good at it. Natasha will vouch."

"Natasha?" He raised one eybrow, and a hysterical giggle bubbled up inside her.

"Yeah, she's been put in charge of my training. She thinks dancing is good for balance and control, or some such. I re-started my ballet lessons a few nights ago."

"Ballet, huh? How long have you been dancing?" He tried another turn, a little sloppier. She missed the lead and nearly tripped over her heels, but he caught her and pulled her back in.

"Um, years. I started before my gran died, so I couldn't have been older than eight."

"Wow. That young."

Asa shrugged. "A lot of girls start younger. Anyway, I mostly gave it up after I turned sixteen and realized I was never going to be any taller, and I'd decided to go into med school by that point anyway." The music was very insistent, but she refused to acknowledge it, just let herself move. It was getting a little easier.

"And what inspired that?"

Asa hated that question, but if she didn't answer it, she would be back to square one, and throwing up did not currently appeal to her.

"My gran died, when I was nine. The doctor said there was nothing they could've done, but… Well, he was a wash. We sued him later, for malpractice. Long story short, if he'd been any good, he could've saved my gran."

He pulled her a little closer into a sympathetic hug, still almost-waltzing. Asa realized that this was how most people danced, when they didn't have years of perfectionistic habits drilled into them.

"So you wanted to save people. People like your gran."

Asa nodded into his chest. Some of the sting of her gran's death had faded with the years, and the anger at the doctor, but not all of it.

"And I was good at it. Usually, I could work on instinct, then find out later that I'd been right all along. Sometimes, though, my instincts are just… off. Just totally and completely wrong."

She found herself wanting to tell him about Agent Beecher, and clamped her mouth shut.

"I-"

She never found out what he was going to say, because at that exact moment, there was a crash, and a shout, and chaos.

Peter spared her only a momentary apologetic glance, and then he was gone, presumably to change into his spidey-suit. Asa found herself adrift in a sea of people, all taller than she was, all trying to figure out what was going on. Asa craned her neck and stood on her toes, but then the crowd parted, stepping back, and she realized what had happened.

Bruce. Bruce had Hulked out, and he was holding Stephanie in the air, growling in her face.

The first thing Asa did was ditch her shoes. Then she started pushing people back, off of the dance floor, as far away from what was swiftly becoming a fight as possible. Steve appeared in the fray, then the dark-haired wench from earlier was _flying through the air._ Thankfully, Clint caught her. Asa hiked up her skirt and dashed towards them. Clint helped Asa lay her out, then threw himself back into the tussle.

Asa checked quickly for a concussion, though it was hard to tell without a light.

"You!" she pointed at a particularly blustery, panicky man who was making everyone else around him panic. "Go and find me a light. You," she selected another trouble-maker. "Call 911. You," this time someone who looked reliable. "Two floors up, first door on your right, there is a medkit by the door. Get it and bring it back. If you get lost, just ask for directions out loud. The artificial intelligence will help you. Go! Go go go!" She waved her hands to get them moving. The woman groaned and shifted, and Asa laid a hand on her forehead.

"Lie still, it's all okay," she murmured. The woman's eyes opened blearily. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Betty," the woman sighed. "Betty Ross."

"Great, Betty. What's your date of birth? Your favorite color? Your mother's maiden name?" Asa plied the woman with questions, trying to keep her conscious. Then another figure slid past them, and Asa darted after it.

It was Steve, and Beth was shaking him, slightly hysteric.

"That's not how you should go about it," she called out, trying not to sound too harsh. She dropped to her knees beside Steve, but he was already sitting up, and he waved her away. Asa raked him with her eyes, but he seemed alright, and his balance was fine as he climbed to his feet. Asa let him go, and returned to her former patient. Someone was already helping her sit up, and she batted them away.

"Lie back, Betty. Talk to me, I need to keep you awake until I can check for concussion."

She kept half an eye on the battle; she couldn't really tell how it was going. Her medkit arrived, and she dug through it until she found a flashlight. The panicky man had disappeared, which was really for the best. She shone the light in Betty's eyes as she protested, and as soon as she was convinced of her good health, clicked it off.

"You're going to be fine. A little bruised, but fine."

Then there was the sound of glass shattering. Asa turned just in time to see the Hulk suspended in mid-air, with Stephanie clinging to him. Then they were both falling.

* * *

_Haha! Romance, adventure, action! Let me know what you think, I love to hear from you guys! And... we have some excellent stuff coming up. I mean, stuff I have been looking forward to since I started writing this. So... be excited. _


	18. Chapter 18

_A short one this time, but I think you're gonna like it! Also, I do have a legitimate excuse this time, having to do with moving across the country, but we all know you don't really want to hear it. So picking up where we left off..._

* * *

They set up the triage center at the base of Stark Tower, partly because it was convenient, but mostly because it was easy to find. Asa had never quite realized before how much periphery damage there was when superheroes romped through the city. From the initial event alone, she had spent nearly an hour dealing with broken bones, gashes, and most importantly, shock. Several smashed windows and a handful of truly nasty car-crashes later, she had lost track of time.

She'd arranged to have a few helpful souls bring anything useful they could find to the wide, well-trimmed lawn, including a few camp beds, a large awning that Asa wondered what Tony would ever use for, and a truly impressive array of medical equipment. More than anything, though, she was grateful for the medical personnel who had materialized. She was fairly sure that some of these people were S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors, and there were a couple of nurses as well, but none of them seemed to want to take charge of anything, so Asa decided to keep things moving, resident or not. She flitted from one patient to the next, discharging some, sending the most dangerously wounded on the few ambulances that made it through the blocked streets to real hospitals. Some were too wounded to be moved immediately, and these Asa did her best to stabilize. Once, when an ambulance worker tried to snatch a man with a severed artery out of her hands before she was finished, she snarled at him wordlessly. A very small, tired part of her brain noted with some surprise that she must be tired, but it wasn't very loud, and easily drowned out by the next round of sirens.

Most of the injuries were from the car crashes. She patched up arms and legs and bandaged ribs; she told people to lay back and drink plenty of water; she checked for concussion and told person after person that Nurse Whoever-It-Is-This-Time would take care of them. She would've thought, after the first hour or two, that she would've been finishing up, but apparently wherever the Avengers went, havoc followed. She didn't mind too much, actually. At least it was hard, mind-numbing work, the kind that didn't let her stop to wonder why she deliberately gave one sniffling little boy Aspirin instead of the much-safer Ibuprofen. A woman and her daughter were both passed over for stitches, even though they clearly needed them; Asa for some reason just could not bear the thought of pulling the sterilized thread through their skin. She sent them on the next ambulance to the hospital. When a frantic man in a ballcap ran up to her and grabbed her shoulder, she knew who he was looking for even before he opened his mouth, and pointed him toward the little boy.

He caught the boy up- who was already feeling much better- and thanked her profusely; she listened with half an ear as a doctor next to her gave her a note that they needed more iodine.

"I was so worried; so so worried when I saw," he babbled, "I thought, 'What if he's been hurt? What if no one finds him? They won't know what to give him! They won't have his medical records!' But he's fine, thank you, thank you,"

Asa, who had been nodding blankly while really listening to the doctor, suddenly quirked an eyebrow.

"What to give him?" she echoed. "What do you mean, 'What to give him?'"

The man wiped tears from his beard with his free hand. "Ibuprofen, miss, he can't have it. He's allergic. Last time it went… systematic."

"Systemic," she corrected automatically. "Yes, yes, of course. I'm glad he's alright. Aren't you, Toby?"

The boy nodded vigorously, and smiled shyly at her. She smiled back, and then the next batch of people were in, this time from a smashed office window down three miles.

She didn't even notice she was getting tired until she swayed, and a firm hand caught her behind the shoulder blade.

"Steady, Dr. Liretto. We're almost done here."

Asa glanced over her shoulder at the man who'd caught her. He was a bland, reliable, middle-aged sort of man in a neatly pressed suit. She smiled gratefully at him without quite knowing why, and his eyes crinkled a little in return. She decided that she liked him on the spot.

She took a moment to glance around, automatically reassessing and checking for any new triage patients. There were none. The last of the critically injured were being packed into ambulances, and nearly everyone else was being collected by friends or family. The remaining medical staff was in the process of making phone calls for those that remained, and cleaning up the mess of the impromptu trauma center. It was late; the sun was nothing more than a watery suggestion above the skyline. Asa sighed and dug the heel of her hand into her forehead.

"Yes, we are, aren't we." She bent over an empty bed to pick up a clipboard and mechanically began checking it against the remaining medical supplies.

"We have people working on that," the man in the suit interrupted. "Why don't we move on into Stark Tower?"

He phrased it as a polite suggestion, but Asa had the feeling it was more of an order, albeit one that she was more than happy to comply with. He steered her in the direction of the elevators, and when she moved of her own volition, he fell in step behind her.

"Right. Yes, of course. I need to find out where everyone is."

"It's being taken care of," he reassured her, and Asa's fuzzy brain caught up with itself long enough to start to be curious.

"By…?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents Barton and Romanoff are on their way already." He paused to hold out a hand, which Asa shook automatically. "Agent Coulson. Pleased to meet you, Dr. Liretto."

* * *

_Is that squeels of delight I hear? I hope so! If it is, be sure to let me know!_

_Also, upon rereading, I have noticed some grammatical errors and some OOC-ness, which I hope to fix in the near future. No worries, it won't change anything, just hopefully make everything feel a little better._


End file.
